


Once Upon A Dream

by anytaintedcreature (wrongwayco)



Series: Once Upon A Dream [1]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Game(s), Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-08-06 03:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 101,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16380635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongwayco/pseuds/anytaintedcreature
Summary: Honored Luminary. Last Prince of Dundrasil. Rowan has many names, and doesn’t feel he’s lived up to any of them, what with the hole in the sky where the World Tree once bloomed, and a victory that feels hollow in the aftermath. When he’s offered a chance to do it all over again, he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s the Luminary, and his life isn’t his own to live, and he’s about to learn just how much is lost when one loses time.Canon Divergence AU: The Luminary returns to a former place in time with an interesting new ability that might prove to be more of a curse than a blessing.





	1. Prologue: The Waves Have Come

_Prologue: The Waves Have Come_

 

_The sun goes down and everything_

_Begins to fade away. The waves have come_

_And taken you to sea,_

_Never to return to me._

 

* * *

 

To lose time is to lose much. The Time Keeper hadn’t been joking.

The sudden surge of bitterness surprised Rowan, though only a little. He’d realized the pattern his life was sure to take well over a year ago, when he’d been thrown into the Heliodor dungeons for having a birthmark on the back of his hand, the truth was suddenly stark in its clarity.

His life would never truly be his own, so what did he really have to lose?

A lot, as it turned out.

He cut his eyes away from the warm glow of Time’s Sphere to glance back at his companions and felt his throat burn. They all watched him, a familiar mix of wariness and concern, as they’d done every day since Yggdrasil fell. The day the Luminary sought his destiny and failed spectacularly.

They’d won in the end. Mordegon was gone, his fortress no longer casting a black, ominous shadow on what remained of the world below, but failure still had its consequences, he knew all too well. He saw it every day, or rather, he saw what was missing - the giant World Tree, and the fearless sage who’d fought so desperately to save it.

Rowan took a deep breath. His friends were waiting for him to make his decision, but it had already been made, the moment the Time Keeper spoke of going back.

He could stop Yggdrasil from ever falling in the first place, could prevent Veronica’s death and hundreds of others. It wasn’t much of a choice at all.

Rowan wondered - not for the first time - if this was what the Seer had meant when she’d told him to wait for the tug on the line to know when it was time. He wondered too if there would ever come a day when he no longer felt paralyzed at the moment of change, caught between the need to act and the fear that always tried to keep him from taking the first step.

It wouldn’t stop him this time. If the pleas of those he loved most couldn’t change his mind, nothing would.

They cared for him, and he for them, but he was the Luminary, and his love and theirs could not outweigh the needs of the world.

Besides, he thought, with a twist in his stomach and a weight on his heart, in mere moments they would no longer know he was missing at all.

He knew what he needed to save, but as Rowan turned away from the raised dais and turned to face those he had to leave behind, he saw too what he would ruin.

Jade had tears on her cheeks, silent and resolved. Hendrik met his gaze, his expression grim as he pressed a hand to the princess’s back - a soft, tentative touch from an age-old affection blooming into something new. There would be a line in the sand between them when he returned, Rowan knew, with Hendrik on the opposing side.

His grandfather too seemed to already know what he had to do. His shoulders were slumped forward, his face twisted with a sadness that ran bone deep. He was the last of his kingdom, all that remained of the blood he hailed from, and had lost too much already.

Sylvando had a mothering arm around Serena, ever-present smile in place despite the sadness in his eyes. Serena’s hands were pressed together, a resilient hope in her eyes. She wanted him to change his mind, despite the fact that if he could save her sister, she’d never have to know the world without her.

They wouldn’t miss him long, he reminded himself, but he’d miss them as they were now for the rest of his days.

Erik had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on the floor. He could see the knot between his brows, and Rowan felt the overwhelming urge to wrap the other boy up in his arms and hold on tight, to tuck his nose against the thief’s neck, where he was always warm and smelled like sunshine, but the Luminary’s life was not his own, so he stayed rooted where he was planted.

When Rowan’s eyes touched on him, Erik looked up as though he’d felt it. He didn’t miss the anguish that flashed across Erik’s face, but he stared back, steadfast. He took a step closer, and Rowan gratefully laced his fingers through his when the other offered his hand.

“I know better than to try and stop you,” Erik started, his voice low, “but are you sure you want to do this?”

Rowan looked down at their tangled fingers. He turned his hand over, looking from the smooth skin of Erik’s hand, coupled with the marked back of his own. “I have to,” he admitted. “This - this could be all we - _I_ can do. To fix it, to save everyone. How often do you get a chance to redo the fall of the world?”

He tried to smile. When Erik’s expression tightened, he knew he’d failed.

“You’ve lost so much,” Erik whispered, “I-”

“I’ll fix it,” Rowan said quickly. He had to go, now, or he knew he _wouldn’t_. “Veronica, Yggdrasil, I’ll bring them back. And we’ll be better off.”

_They had to be._

Rowan took a decisive step backward, towards the Sphere. His hands started to shake, and Erik clung tighter to the one he held as Rowan dropped the other to the hilt of the legendary sword at his hip.

He could hear Serena start to cry softly behind him. He tried to force his face into some semblance of calm, a hero’s mask to hide the face of a boy who’d already failed the world once before.

Jade darted forward and offered a small, strained smile. “You can do this. The usses of the past will be there for you, whenever you need us.”

“Don’t look down now, laddie. We’ll only be apart a wee while.” Rab added, folding his hands over the handle of his cane.

Rowan bit down on his bottom lip. He took another step away, a fish caught in a current, and felt his fingers slide away from Erik’s grip as the other boy let him go.

His eyes started to burn, and he tried to convince himself it was only from the light that shined ahead.

He wished the Seer would have been kind enough to warn him about _this,_ about feeling the tug on the line in both directions - the compulsion to leap warring with the desperation to _stay_.

Rowan, Luminary, Last Crown Prince of Dundrasil lifted the Sword of Light high overhead and brought it crashing down onto Time’s Sphere. The resounding shatter echoed through the tower as the orb exploded and the shards of the sword clattered to his feet.

Numbness came and went, and he felt searching fingers slide back into his own and clutched the offered hand tightly.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Erik insisted, his voice bordering on desperate as he squinted against the harsh white glow. “Not by a long shot.”

It was though, in a way that mattered only to the two of them.

Suddenly, Rowan remembered the Golden Palace, watching helplessly as Erik slowly changed to gold before him, and wondered if turning to stone didn’t have its merits.

He squeezed Erik’s fingers between his own as the fog closed in, and he knew what it was to leave his heart behind.

“I love you,” Rowan whispered, “you should know that.”

He saw blue eyes fly wide, lips parting on words lost to the space between them.

Rowan blinked, and the world fell away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading. I'm @anytaintedcreature on tumblr, hope you enjoyed it.


	2. 1: Au Revoir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! First of all, that response to the prologue blew me away. Thanks so much! I hope you enjoy this next bit even more.  
> There will be some canon dialogue, some original. Also chapter titles and intros are songs that I thought fit the chapter themes, if you're into that kind of junk too. Enjoy!

* * *

 

_Chapter 1: Au Revoir_

 

 _Today I'm not myself_  
_And you, you're someone else_  
_And all these rules don't fit_  
_And all that starts can quit_ _  
What a peculiar state, we're in_

* * *

 

 

_Before_

 

Erik broke the surface of the water with a gasp. Water ran in rivulets from his hair down his cheeks, and when he felt the sunlight soak his skin for the first time in months, a grin pulled up the corners of his mouth, slightly manic in its intensity.

He’d been in the dark a long time.

He took a deep breath and held it in, staring up at the sun for a moment until his eyes burned before letting it out. “That was something, Luminary. What, I don’t know, but - shit,” he broke off, catching sight of the boy in question, face down in the water not too far off to his side.

“No, come on,” Erik splashed over to him as quickly as the water would allow and took hold of his shoulders, flipping him upright. “Don’t do this to me,” he begged, anxiety spiking into a very real fear.

He couldn't take care of _anyone._

Erik towed the boy to shore, careful to keep his head lolling above water even as he swallowed mouthfuls of it himself. He tugged him up onto the bank and pressed his ear to the still boy’s lips, and cursed before pounding a fist against his chest.

“No, no, breathe, damn it!  _Please.”_

With another desperate smack, the Luminary gasped and choked, his eyes flying wide open.

Erik breathed with him. He helped turn him over, running his palm up the other boy’s back as he coughed and spat river water out of his lungs.

“There, that’s better,” he soothed. His voice was shakier than he’d like, but as he slumped back to sit in the sand, his hand between his companion’s shoulder blades and counting his heartbeats, he couldn’t quite summon up the will to care.

“I can’t decide if you’re lucky or just the opposite, Luminary,” Erik said, once his heart had slowed from a merciless drum beat to something more manageable, and the roaring in his ears died away.

The boy rested his forehead on his knees, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Erik realized he was still rubbing slow strokes up and down his spine, and yanked his hand back.

Beside him, his companion muttered something.

“Didn’t catch that,” Erik replied, turning his face up to the sun and letting his eyes fall closed for a moment.

He glanced back over as the Luminary slumped backward with a thud. “Rowan,” he murmured, his lips barely moving to shape the word. “It’s Rowan.” His eyes slid shut, and he fell silent once more.

Erik felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Rowan, then,” he said softly, trying it out. When he didn’t get a reply, Erik looked down at his companion, hesitating only a moment before leaning in close.

Out like a light, he decided, but still breathing.

Erik heaved a sigh before clambering to his feet. He reached down and slipped an arm around Rowan’s waist, and gingerly pulled the boy to his feet. He was soaking wet and absolute dead weight, but his skin was warm where it touched Erik’s, and he figured he could bear his weight, for a little while. He’d carried heavier burdens before, after all.

“Put your faith in the Luminary,” Erik echoed on a grunt as he took a step forward, and Rowan’s head rolled to press against his neck. “I’d say we’re off to a swell start.”

* * *

* * *

 

When Rowan opened his eyes, for a moment all he saw was blue.

A cloud rolled slowly across the sky, and a cool breeze played over his face, ruffling through his hair. He sat up and looked around, and felt his stomach turn over.

He was in a field, right outside the gates of Arboria, with the Sword of Shadows lying in the grass alongside his legs. Most telling of all was Yggdrasil, high overhead and standing tall and proud, and _alive_.

For a moment, he was dumbfounded. He’d actually _done_ it.

He’d gone back in time. He wasn’t lost to the void, his soul doomed to haunt shadows in a broken world. He’d arrived where he was meant to, and the thought had him staggering to his feet, pulling the giant dark sword up with him.

If Yggdrasil was back, that meant someone else was, too.

Rowan took the steps three at a time, his breath coming in short pants by the time he’d reached the fountain in the town’s heart. He was drawing some puzzled stares, he knew, but the onlookers didn’t stop him as he mounted the rest of the stairs leading up to the Cathedral. Palms planted on the door, he drew in a breath and held it as he shoved the doors open, his heart pounding hard against the cage of his ribs.

He looked around the room so frantically he almost missed her, down on her knees in the center of the marble, red-clad head bent low.

_Goddess above, but there she was._

“Oh Serenica, blessed ancestor. The time has come at last for us to fulfill our destiny,” Veronica was speaking, her voice soft but clearly audible in the silence of the temple, and he could barely feel his legs as he came to a stop several feet behind her.

She was alive, close enough that it would only take him scant steps to reach her and pull her in, and hold on tight. The urge to do so was nearly smothering.

She’d almost certainly hit him if he did so, he was sure, and he stuffed his fist against his mouth to cover the small, slightly hysterical sound that had managed to break free.

Veronica lept to her feet, arms spread wide, and for a moment he thought she’d realized his presence. She tipped her face up to the light and continued her prayer, and for the first time, it occurred to Rowan that he might be intruding on a private moment.

“But no matter what happens, I swear I won’t let the Luminary come to harm!” She continued on, unaware of her audience, and Rowan felt his heart lurch.

 _You didn't_ , he thought, not caring a whit for the stinging tears that blurred his vision.

“He’s our light and our hope, and he’ll rid our world of darkness. I _know_ he will!”

He didn’t feel like he deserved her faith, before or now, but as he scrubbed his hands over his eyes and swiped stubborn streaks away he swore he’d do his best to earn it.

“Oi!”

Rowan looked up to find Veronica with a hand on her hip, the other thrusting a finger at him.

“What are you doing here? Wait, you weren’t listening, were you?” she demanded, and he bit down on his lower lip to hide a smile _and_ try to keep further tears at bay.

He was an absolute mess.

“Sorry,” he started, sheepish, as she continued to let him have it. He had missed her, but he hadn’t realized just how viscerally until that moment, while his heart swelled as she shouted at him. He couldn’t start crying again. He had to do better. In this timeline, his friends had no idea anything had gone wrong the first time. But as Veronica sauntered up to him, blonde eyebrows drawn low, he found himself bending down to his knee.

“Can I just…” Rowan had reached out before he realized and hesitated.

Veronica tipped her head to one side, and before he could force words out, her expression softened as though, somehow, she understood what he needed. “You - oh, whatever. Alright then, you idiot.” Her arms went around his neck and Rowan let out a great, shuddering breath, before wrapping his arms around her in turn and pulling her in.

“Look, it’s alright to be frightened,” she started, giving his back a couple of pats, “but pull yourself together, okay? The old man already frets like a mother hen, we can’t have you losing it on us, too-”

“Well, isn’t this just the sweetest?” Sylvando’s voice rang out behind him, and he felt Veronica shove him away without ceremony. “Why have I never gotten a quick snuggle?”

Rowan smiled a little to himself, before turning around. Sylvando he could handle.

When he spun around to face the door, he felt his heart stop, before picking up a bruising rhythm. The smile slid from his face. The entertainer wasn’t alone.

Erik had his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow arched high. If he’d looked concerned before, his expression was nothing short of bewildered now, and Rowan could easily imagine why.

He felt like he’d seen a ghost, and probably looked the part - and Erik especially could probably tell that he’d been crying.

_Do better. Turn to stone._

Sylvando continued on, unbothered. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, honey. Come on, then, the Father will be waiting!” With a wave of his hand, he spun around on his heel and waltzed out. Veronica cast Rowan one more odd, considering look before trailing out after him.

Rowan took a step to follow but froze in his tracks when Erik pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel the warmth of the touch through his tunic.  
He wasn’t blushing, at least.

“Are you alright?” Erik started, a small frown curving his mouth. “And uh, what’s with that sword? You’re supposed to be the good guy, remember?”

His teasing fell flat when Rowan didn’t smile. He’d completely forgotten about the Sword of Shadows strapped to his back. “Oh. Well, one of Father Benedictus’s aids gave it to me. It’s supposed to, um, help.”

_Utterly brilliant._

“Doesn’t look like it’s meant to help much of anything,” he mused, letting his hand fall away. Rowan had to suppress the urge to reach for it with his own. “And you look-”

“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” Rowan interrupted, harsher than he’d meant, and he could see the flash of surprise in the other boy’s eyes before his expression went blank.

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess,” Erik said, cooler than before. “Let’s just get going, yeah?”

Guilt settled in and curled around his heart like a fist, and Rowan bit back a sigh. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

 

 

Rowan was not off to a great start.

As they trekked through the First Forest, he stayed silent and hung back. One by one, his friends would drop back to chat with him, to try to draw him out.

_“What’s that look on yer face, laddie? You look like yer about to toss your biscuits -”_

_“Darling, you’re looking very down today. You should get more beauty sleep.”_

Veronica watched him more than any of them, brows furrowed low as though he were a puzzle she wanted to sort out. Jade even tried to nudge him into a game of who could find the most sparkly sap, but the closer they got to the altar, the more his anxiety bloomed, white hot in the center of his chest, and the more he resisted their efforts.

He felt disconnected, disjointed - they were the same people he loved so fiercely, but in that moment they felt more like shadows. Where they were all excited to reach the World Tree, all he felt was an ill sense of foreboding. They didn’t know the horror that came next. He had all the weight of the world riding on him as he tried to prepare to prevent it.

He’d had to pretend before, certainly - that he wasn’t almost constantly afraid of failing, that he wasn’t overburdened by guilt - but this was a new level of awareness. He had to school every expression, every gesture, for anything he did could change the course time would take, and he could not mess it up again.

On top of it, he wasn’t used to having to pretend in front of Erik. At least, in the past - or, the _future_ \- he’d always been able to let his weakness show in front of one person, who’d always been more than happy to hold him up when he might falter.

Rowan pushed aside the frond of a fern and kept walking, and once again felt aware of a different pair of eyes on him. His skin prickled with it, as he felt as though he walked along a thin razor wire and teetered too close to both edges.

He could have sworn it took much longer the second time, for his grandfather to hunch forward and request they take a break, but he still felt the rush of relief for just one more moment to breathe before it was time to rewrite history.

 

 

After they finished setting camp, Rowan sank down in front of the fire, and watched the light cast shadows in the rapidly gathering darkness. He felt someone settle down at his side and didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Calm down,” Erik murmured, and Rowan felt the tension in his shoulders release, as though all he’d needed was permission. “You’ve been so on edge all day, it’s making _me_ nervous. It’ll be alright. We’ve all got your back, you know?”

“I do know.” Rowan agreed, his voice low. He turned to face him and wasn’t quite prepared for it to  _hurt._

Firelight flickered across Erik’s face as he offered a small, tentative smile, and everything about him was familiar. But this Erik wasn’t _his,_ not yet, and he couldn’t relax in his presence and bask in his warmth, not completely.

Turning to stone wasn’t quite as easy as he’d wished.

The soft notes of Serena’s harp filled the air, a melody he’d found quite sweet, before. Now it hollowed him out, because he knew not everything beautiful could stay untainted forever.

Erik’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Rowan let his eyes fall closed when he squeezed.

“Get some sleep,” the thief told him, and Rowan nodded before sinking back onto his bedroll behind him. He fell asleep to a song that reminded him of grief, while trying to remember the exact way he’d felt in that moment, the first time he’d lived it.

_Hope._

* * *

* * *

  

Rowan opened his eyes.

He could still hear the harp, a repeating rise and fall as it joined the chorus of cricket song and the whisper of the breeze through the trees. The entire forest looked to be glowing, in time with the music.

He sat up, his confusion mounting as he noticed their camp was gone completely, without even the remnants of the fire left behind, and Rowan scrambled to his feet with one quick, sharp shout.

“Shh.”

He spun around to see Serena, sitting down in the grass with her eyes closed. Her expression was a peaceful one, and that calmed him, if only a little.

“You’ll wake them.” Serena continued, gently chastising in her soft voice.

“Wake who?” Rowan asked, stepping over to sit down beside her.

She smoothed a hand over her skirt. “The leaves, of course. Everyone’s trying to get some rest.”

Rowan frowned, but let the comment go. “Where is everyone else?”

Serena opened her eyes and blinked, offering him a slightly puzzled smile. “Why, I just told you, silly.”

The truth came to him with a sudden clarity, the click of a key turning in a lock. “This isn’t real.”

Serena tilted her head to one side. “Who’s to say? I think we might just be lost.” She hummed along to the harp for a moment. “Are you worried about tomorrow, Rowan?”

“More than you know,” he blew out a breath. “Why are you dreaming about the Yggdrasil leaves, Serena?”

“I asked Veronica before we slept if she thought our leaves would fall at the same time,” she started, looking up at the tree overhead. “She said she hoped so.” Serena turned to face him, biting down on her lower lip. “She told me that if something happened to her, I’d have to see this through on my own. But I don’t think I could, you know? Veronica’s always been the quicker one, the cleverer one. She’s so brave, nothing scares her. I think she would be just fine on her own, without me. But...I couldn’t, if I lost her.”

Rowan felt his mouth twist into a sad smile. He reached out and took her hand in his. “You’re braver than you think, Serena.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but-”

“No, I mean it. Listen,” Rowan shifted in the grass, giving her hand a light tug to hold her attention. “I can’t promise nothing at all will go wrong tomorrow, because as much as I hate it, I know better than that. But..I’m going to do my best for you guys, okay? It’s going to be different, this time around.”

He noticed the slip up too late, but Serena didn’t seem confused by his words. “I know you will, Rowan. We all believe in you, you know. Maybe you should try it.”

The soft laugh surprised him, as it bubbled loose from his chest. “Yeah, maybe I should.” He looked up to the glowing leaves. “I know you’d be alright without her, Serena. You’re strong enough for that. But I’m going to try and make sure you don’t have to be.”

Serena tipped her head to one side, resting it against his shoulder with a quiet sigh. “Thanks for coming to talk with me, I...I feel a bit better, truly. Would you mind terribly if we stayed like this awhile?”

“Take as long as you need,” Rowan murmured, “we’ve got time now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for reading. :) Feel free to hit me up with comments, questions, rotten tomatoes. Whatever works.


	3. 2: The Other Side

* * *

 

Chapter 2: The Other Side 

 

_I was promised the glorious ending of a knight_

_But the crown is out of sight_

_I’m slowly drifting into slumber_

_‘Cause I have lost the force to fight_

_It’s like a cold hand on my shoulder_

_I’ll see you on the other side._

* * *

 

_Before_

 

Erik had never had many experiences with magic.

He knew about it, of course, and prided himself on being clever - he believed in the things he could see, and he’d certainly seen enough. But he thought magical occurrences were rare, isolated incidents. The sort of nightmare that happened once, and left you spending your days trying to forget in the wake of it.

It was because of this that Erik realized early on his new companion would take some getting used to. Rowan was nice enough, of course - if a little naive - and Erik had already come to the reluctant conclusion that, should anyone try to harm the Luminary, he’d likely stick his dagger in them with very little remorse after the fact.  

It was something about his eyes, he guessed, that made you want to lead armies in his honor. Maybe it was the rarity of his smiles, that you had to earn every one of them.

And that was more than enough of _that._

No, Erik was getting along with Rowan just fine. The source of his discomfort was more to the fact that, during his days in the other boy’s company, strange things happened.

With him, something fanciful happened at least once a day, and Erik was having a hard time maintaining his skepticism.

Maybe that’s what putting his faith in the Luminary meant.

Whatever it was, it led to him knee-deep in the marsh at the base of Cobblestone falls, searching for a box of letters that may or may not exist, left there by Rowan’s grandfather. Or so he was told, by a ghost in a vision the Luminary had of his past.

When they’d arrived to find Cobblestone in ruins, Erik had been furious - on his new friend’s behalf, and for the village itself. Innocent and peaceful, until it had been in someone else’s way.

He’d expected Rowan to be angry as well, or devastated, even thought he might shake a fist at the skies and rail at the forces of nature for a while. He hadn’t expected the other boy’s hand to glow in time with a tree root, or for him to emerge from a concerning trance suggesting they go hunt for an old box.

It wasn’t until about ten minutes into a silent search that Erik realized Rowan just needed to feel like he was doing _something._

“You can talk about it, if you like,” Erik spoke up, casting a quick glance in the other boy’s direction. “I know that must have been pretty rough.”

Rowan was quiet for a moment, long enough that Erik thought he might not answer at all, before he heard an angry sigh.

“I suppose I just didn’t expect them to destroy an entire village, just because I was raised there,” he started, and when Erik looked back over, he could see the knot between Rowan’s brows, the tightness to his jaw. “And I...I’d like to think they’re okay, since there aren’t any...you know. But how can I know for sure? How can you rationalize _that?”_ He tossed his marked hand in the direction of the destruction they’d left.

“You can’t,” Erik told him, his voice low. “But if it helps, I think they’re probably alright. There’s no evidence anyone was killed there. I bet they’ve locked them away.”

Rowan turned to look at the wisps of smoke that still rose over the hill. “Maybe,” he muttered, but it didn’t sound as if he truly believed it, and the utter desolation in his eyes made Erik want to bundle him away, far from the things that caused him pain.

He knew what it was to lose what he loved, after all.

“Well, I’ll help you get revenge, when the time comes,” Erik told him, nudging the dagger that rested through his belt. “We’ll make those bastards wish they’d never heard of Cobblestone.”

The comment achieved what he’d hoped, as he saw the corner of Rowan’s mouth quirk up into the slightest of smiles, even tinged with sadness as it was. “You know, my grandfather always told me not to bear grudges. I wonder if he’d still believe that, if he saw- Wait,” Rowan pointed, before bending down and digging around the base of one of the stones.

“This is it,” he said, pulling the small box loose from its hiding place before prying the lid open.

“Letters?” Erik asked, peeking over his shoulder as Rowan carefully lifted the first envelope from the box. He slid one finger beneath the seal, gentle and reverent, and Erik felt like an intruder.

He turned to scan the cliffs above and felt a prickle run the length of his spine, an itch between his shoulders.

They needed to run, and soon. Heliodor’s soldiers would still be hunting them, and every one of them knew where the Luminary would head first.

It was only a matter of time.

 

 

_The damn Prince of Dundrasil._

Everyone knew about the old, ruined kingdom. He’d heard the tales more than once, the way everyone speaks of such things - in hushed whispers, as though lamenting tragedy quietly would prevent it from befalling you next. Erik knew that Dundrasil had once been a glorious land, bountiful, rich, and second only to the capital itself, when monsters laid waste to the castle and all that surrounded it in the night. The King and Queen had died, along with their newborn child and Heliodor’s Princess.

Or so the stories go.

Erik would wonder just how many more titles Rowan had to his name, but there was a time and place to ponder such things, and desperately fleeing Heliodor’s soldiers with one horse between the two of them was not one of them.

Rowan had an arm wrapped around his waist, fingers twisted in Erik’s tunic to keep his seat as he shot a glance over his shoulder. “They’re catching up,” he warned, shouting to be heard over the wind.

“Just hold on,” Erik ground the words out, urging the horse to go just a little bit faster.

The door was so close, and the blue stone that had rested at the bottom of Rowan’s grandfather’s box began to glow in the Luminary’s hand.

Between one breath and the next, they hit the ground hard, and he knew he would have bruises later. Erik was half certain he’d need to haul Rowan through the doorway himself, but they made it through with mere moments to spare. The doors slammed shut behind them, and the darkness that enveloped them didn’t stay for long as the stone pulsed in Rowan’s grip.

Yes, Erik thought, as a white fog rolled around them and swallowed them whole, he’d had more than enough damn _magic_ for one afternoon.

* * *

* * *

 

Rowan was not usually the first to wake.

Typically, Erik would put his feet on the ground before the others and prowl around their camp to scan for signs of danger, before scrounging around for something to eat. He had trouble sleeping through the night in open or unfamiliar areas, a fact Rowan had learned the very first night they’d spent alone out near the Emerald Coast. The older boy had dragged his blankets over to Rowan’s and asked - with averted eyes and a warning in his tone - if he minded if they slept back to back, for _safety._ He still slept with his daggers in arm’s reach, a habit Rowan had tried to gently break him out of many times.

After Yggdrasil’s fall, it was always Hendrik, up well before the sun. _One who wastes the morning away in bed might as well stay there. The world still needs saving before the sun hits the sky._ Rowan had heard the gruff complaint many times, and missed him like a limb.

But the knight was not among them and Erik was still sleeping, curled up like a cat a few feet away from his back, and something about the sight made Rowan’s heart ache far too much for him to even think of rolling back over to try to drift off again. He kicked away from his blankets before rolling them up, and found his eyes sticking to the tent where the girls slept. His dream from the night before came crashing back to mind.

Although, it hadn’t really felt like _his_ dream. The sensation of being an audience to someone else’s inner turmoil had been strangely familiar, and it only took him a moment to figure out just where he’d experienced it before.

The Yggdrasil roots, and the visions he had when he encountered them - it happened before in Cobblestone, again with Hendrik and Jasper’s memories in Heliodor Castle, and with Erik’s memories of his sister in Sniflheim. But that was different, surely-

“You’re up early,” Erik’s voice was low and rough with sleep, and Rowan wondered just how long it would take before he’d get used to the jolt in his stomach when he heard him, or for him to grow familiar with the hole in his chest that gaped wide when he remembered that things were not the _same_.

“Great,” Erik continued, unaware of Rowan’s internal struggle as he stretched his arms high above his head, “you can check the forest with me, scout ahead a bit before the others get up.”

As Rowan tracked his movements like he was trying to memorize a sunrise, he realized with certainty that he wouldn’t adjust any time soon.

“Sure,” he said, the word sounding more like a sigh, “sounds like a plan.”

Jasper was out there somewhere, Rowan knew, a cat circling his prey before he pounced, and he wasn’t about to let Erik fall victim to the hunt.

 

 

They were getting closer to the Heart, with every passing breath, every determined footfall. Fear had an iron grip on his throat and squeezed tighter and tighter by the second until he could barely breathe.

Rowan tried to find a distraction, whether by chatting with his companions or running through mental scenarios in which they _didn’t_ all end up doomed, but it never worked for long. He’d still catch himself looking over his shoulder for a glint of silver armor in the sun, or the curl of a sinister sneer in the shadows,

He had to stop. He shook his head roughly, as though thoughts were so easily cleared. When he looked up, he caught Serena’s eye, and she gave him a small, encouraging smile before returning to her conversation with her sister.

She didn’t seem to remember his intrusion into her dream. He’d watched her carefully when her blonde head appeared between the tent flaps as she pushed her way out into the cool dawn air, but she’d offered up nothing more than a soft smile and a cheery _good morning_ before hurrying to help in their preparations to continue up to Yggdrasil. In the hours since, she’d acted completely normal. Curiosity ate at him, but it wasn’t as if he could just _ask_ her.

 _A mystery for another day,_ he decided, _if they made it through this one._

The trees grew thicker, the underbrush denser. The narrow path he walked was becoming more familiar, and when Rowan saw the green glow emanating through the leaves ahead, a weight settled low in his stomach.

They’d made it.

One by one his companions stepped closer to the light, nearly identical expressions of awe across each face, but Rowan didn’t hear their comments. He stared up at Yggdrasil’s Heart, silent, and counted his breaths as he waited.

One.

 _“Owww! The naughty thing gave me a shock!”_  

Two.

“ _Aye, and so it should…_ ”

Three.

“... _The Sword of Light..”_

It had gone so utterly, horribly wrong the first time. Rowan took a step closer, and felt his hands start to shake.

Four.

_“Only you can save our world.”_

He rather thought the world deserved better, but he was _trying,_ and he would try again.

The mark on the back of his hand began to glow, warm and steadying, and he let his eyes fall closed.

_And there it was._

The snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves underfoot; all things to indicate an intruder in their midst, and though the hunt was over, Rowan knew more than he had the time before. He reached back, curling his fingers around the hilt of the Sword of Shadows. The greatsword was heavier in his grasp than his usual choice of blades, but he would make do.

 _Lend me your strength,_ Rowan thought, with one last glance at the Heart, _so that I might do better by you this time around._

The first crack of magic sizzling through the air, and the sound of a blow deflected, was deafening.

 

 

One by one, Rowan uncurled his fingers, and let the hilt of the shattered blade fall from his fingers and into the grass. His knees shook as adrenaline fled and weariness leaked into his bones in its wake, but he kept to his feet.

_They’d won._

Jasper was still on the ground before him, soundly beaten but breathing, and Yggdrasil still stood. He could barely believe it. Rowan let out a loud breath, and felt a smile curl his lips.

It slid away in the next instant, his relief fading when he heard the metallic creak of armor followed by a voice that sent a chill down his spine.

“And what do we have here?”

For a blessed moment, he’d  _forgotten._

Rowan spun around on his heel as King Carnelian approached, Hendrik at his back. “What has Jasper led us into?” the latter asked, his brows drawn low as he took in the scene. “What happened here?”

Rab stepped forward, an explanation on his tongue, but Rowan watched the king.

_Mordegon._

He knew how this story should have gone, but now that the path had changed their enemy was not going to reveal himself, Rowan realized, with a slowly mounting horror. And why would he? The fight had not turned in his favor, but he could still maintain his host. No one else knew, and if he tried to strike the King himself, Rowan knew without a doubt that Hendrik would cut him down where he stood.

He was powerless.

Distantly, he could hear Jade appealing to Hendrik on his behalf. He could hear Serena and Veronica murmuring to each other, and the sounds of a still-living forest encompassing them all. He kept his eyes on Carnelian. Try as he might, Rowan couldn’t quite manage to slow his breathing. The King would stay a threat, only one he had no idea how to handle.

“M-Master, help me…” Jasper started, raising his arm weakly.

Rowan watched as Carnelian’s eyes narrowed, his expression shrewd and calculating. His hand fell to the sword at his waist, and Jasper’s eyes went just a little wide, the barest flicker of confusion crossing his face. With a certainty he couldn’t begin to fathom, Rowan knew what would happen the moment before it did. He heard the hiss of a sword sliding against leather as it was withdrawn, and after the slightest hesitation, he moved.

He dove forward, raising his falcon blade high. “Wait!”

The King’s sword crashed into Rowan’s with an echoing clatter. The force of the attack radiated up his arms, but he gritted his teeth and held his guard.

For a moment, everyone in the clearing was silent and he felt the weight of all eyes on him - his friends, he knew, would be confused, and Jasper behind him possibly even more so. Carnelian’s face twisted, a mask of burning rage unbecoming of a king.

“You dare, Luminary?” he growled, but Rowan’s eyes landed elsewhere. He wasn’t watching the enemy at his back or the one who stood before him, but Hendrik, who stood behind his king.

The usually unflappable knight looked downright horrified, and Rowan felt his confidence grow, lend some steel to his spine.

“You would cut a man down without even a trial?” Rowan challenged, and saw something akin to relief wash over Hendrik’s face before it hardened to stone once more.

Hendrik wouldn’t defy his king to save the life of a traitor, Rowan knew, but he didn’t want to watch Jasper die at his feet, either.

The Luminary lifted his gaze up to the imposing king before him. Carnelian stared back, considering, and Rowan wondered if he’d realized much the same thing as he himself had, moments before.

They were at an impasse, both unable to make a move against the other. Rowan felt frozen, a mouse in a trap while the cat advanced - but he knew too that Mordegon could not openly attack him without risking his own cover, and that would have to be enough.

For now.

“Besides,” Rowan continued, as Carnelian slowly lowered his blade, “if he’s been working for Mordegon, he might have information that could help us.” He lifted his hand and waved it in Jasper’s direction, with the strongest sleep spell he could manage. “He’ll stay unconscious for the journey back to Heliodor.”

The king’s eyes flashed with malice, but Rowan didn’t flinch. He lowered his own sword only when Carnelian sheathed his. “Very well, Luminary. You raise a valid point. It would appear I owe you an apology, as well.”

Rowan noticed he didn’t offer one. He took a step back as Jade walked forward to greet the man she believed to be her father. While he wanted to warn her, he realized he might not need to. Her shoulders were tight, uneasy, and her smile was strained.

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one.

When a hand came down on his shoulder, he stiffened. If Erik noticed, he didn’t show it.

“You did good,” Erik said, keeping his voice low. His eyes darted between Jade and the king before landing on Jasper’s prone form. “I am a little surprised you saved _his_ life, though.”

“I almost didn’t, after everything he’s done,” Rowan admitted. He remembered a blast of dark magic, Erik taking the blow and falling to the ground, and the white-hot fear that had flashed through his veins like lightning. But earlier still was _don’t bear grudges, and live with love in your heart,_ and he hadn’t saved Jasper’s life for his own sake.  
“But, ah - he could be helpful.”

“Maybe,” Erik conceded, doubt clouding his voice as his eyebrows knitted together, “or he might cause more problems.”

_Nothing worse than he’s already done._

“Luminary!”

He jumped, and Erik gave his shoulder a too-brief squeeze before letting go, his lips quirking up into a faint smirk as he barely concealed his amusement. He believed there was nothing left to fear, after all.

Rowan turned to glance at the king, who nodded once. “Take the Sword of Light, then we will make our way back to Heliodor! We have much to celebrate.”

The king’s smile was predatory, and Rowan forced his own in return. When he walked towards the Heart, he felt the burn of Mordegon’s stare like a brand between his shoulders, where in another time, he’d borne a scar.

No, they had plenty left to fear. Rowan knew the way of battles and war, and where the first had been won, the second was far from over.

* * *

* * *

 

The forest was burning, but Rowan could breathe just fine through the heavy smoke in the air. He dug his thumb in between his ribs and felt nothing, not even a twinge.

_We’re doing this again, then._

He took off at a run through falling trees, pushed his way through licking flames as they climbed higher, rising up to the Heart of the World Tree, destroying the world in their wake.

The burning in his throat wasn’t from the smoke, but from the grim certainty that guided his steps onward. He knew whose nightmare he walked, and where to find her.

Rowan had seen this once before, after all.

He heard a familiar shout and kept running until he saw a staff in the air, a bright burst of light surrounding it. Veronica lay trapped beneath it, one hand outstretched. “I have to save them,” she screamed, and her eyes found his through the haze. “I have to-”

Rowan dropped to his knees and closed his fingers around hers. “I’ve got you,” he shouted back, desperate to be heard over the roar of flames, the cracking of the dying tree overhead. “I’m here.”

“I’m not strong enough,” Veronica cried, clutching his offered hand. “We’re not going to make it, I can’t save them, I-” she broke off with a small, broken sound, eyes wild. He could smell blood, cloying and hot.

“No,” Rowan growled, gripping her hand tighter, “you _did_ save us. We don’t have to be here. This isn’t real, not anymore.” He tried to summon up a healing spell, but his magic was nowhere to be found. “Take us somewhere else, Veronica,” he ordered, “anywhere else. We don’t have to see this again, not if you don’t want to.”

She met his eyes with something like hope, and blinked the world away.

 

Rowan opened his eyes to a rain-soaked grove, silence where there once was chaos. Veronica’s small hand was still encased in his own. When he looked around, he couldn’t help the quick grimace. It was certainly not a place he would have chosen.

“You brought us _here_?” he asked.

“Serena and I used to play here, when we were children,” she explained, a fact he already knew. She turned to him with a frown. “What was that? It was so...awful, so real. I was dying, and now-”

“A nightmare,” Rowan interrupted, his voice firm and sure. “Nothing more.”

_Not anymore, never again._

Veronica studied him, lips pursed. “No, it was more than that, wasn’t it? Almost like a memory, but that doesn’t-” she stopped, studying him. “You know, don’t you? Tell me.”

Rowan chewed on his bottom lip. “It happened once,” he admitted, though he knew he probably shouldn’t. “The first time, ah, I failed. Mordegon destroyed Yggdrasil and the tree fell. You saved the rest of us, somehow, but you-” his voice broke, and he looked down, throat suddenly too tight to force words through.

“I _died_.” Veronica finished his thought on a breath, staring at him. “That’s it, isn’t it? I’m dead?” Her voice rose higher, and Rowan shook his head.

“You aren’t,” he whispered, “not in this timeline.”

“What did you do?” Veronica asked, softer.

“Well a world without you isn’t going to go very far, is it?” Rowan joked weakly. “I, well, I broke Time’s Sphere. To go back to yesterday, before we went up to Yggdrasil, so I could change the outcome.”

He watched as Veronica pressed her lips together. Her cheeks grew red, as though she were trying desperately not to cry. “You did that for me?”

“I needed to fix a lot of things,” Rowan said quietly, “but mostly for you, yeah.”

The small girl collided into him, knocking the breath from his lungs when she wrapped her arms around his neck. “That was stupid,” Veronica mumbled into his hair. “The Keepers swore an oath, to protect the Luminary at all costs, even if-” she trailed off with a quiet sniffling sound.

Rowan let out a watery laugh. “Maybe,” he agreed, “but I owe you too, you and every one of our friends, and I’m not losing anyone else, alright? No one else is going to die for me.”

While Veronica started to cry in earnest, he held her together and cast his eyes upwards. High in the sky, the World Tree stood tall, no longer burning. For all that he’d lost in returning, he’d gained a great deal back in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks for reading. :) let me know what you think.


	4. 3: A Thousand Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. You guys are the best for reading this nonsense. I finished my full outline and this monster is going to be upwards of twenty chapters, so this is gonna take over my life for a bit. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

  _Chapter 3: A Thousand Eyes_

 

 _I'll be the calm, I will be quiet_  
_Stripped to the bone, I wait_  
_No, I'll be a stone. I'll be the hunter_  
_Tower that casts a shade_  
_I lie awake and watch it all_ _  
It feels like a thousand eyes_

* * *

 

_Before_

 

“There,” Serena sat back, offering a tight smile still laced with concern. “I’ve done the best I can, I do hope it won’t scar. I’m not very familiar with Sir Jasper’s brand of magic, I’m afraid it’s rather dark...but the mark might fade in time. How do you feel?”

“Better,” Erik told her, and meant it, mostly. His breaths came easier, at least, and he no longer felt like his chest had been lit aflame. “Thanks, Serena.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “Erik, I-I’m just so sorry I had to leave you behind like that. It’s just, I - the Luminary-”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t worry about that. I told you to, didn’t I? Listen,” he rolled his shoulders, concealing a wince, “as far as I’m concerned, you got it exactly right. If it’s ever me or him, you pick him every time, got it? I’ll either figure myself out or I won’t, but he’s the important one.”

“Don’t let Rowan hear you saying that,” Serena told him, her smile a little more genuine, “no one could drag him away from you before you woke up. The whole time I was healing you he was hovering, I’m sure I’ve never seen him fret like that before. He cares for you a great deal.”

Heat flooded his cheeks and felt all the more foolish for it. “Ah, yeah. Thanks for fixing me up,” he repeated, finding his feet and heading for the door of the cabin.

“If you feel seasick, do let me know,” she added. “I’ve already had to sort both Veronica and Rowan out. Staying above deck helps him, I believe, but I’m afraid my sister seems hopeless.”

He hadn’t even noticed the rocking beneath his feet, and knew only the strongest of storm swells would have him feeling green.

“Right, I’ll do that,” Erik told her, pushing the door open and retreating.

Though his memories of the night in Gondolia were fleeting at best, he could quite easily recall Rowan stepping out of the shadows of the stage, looking every part the brave prince with his sword raised high, drawing Jasper into battle.

Just to save _him,_ while he’d been tied to a post trying to breathe through the fire in his lungs.

_Pathetic._

Rowan had been so stupid to come after him, but Erik was so afraid that he would, had hoped he’d stay away. Part of him had known better, the other part was furious - but as they cut a path through the waves, Gondolia and Jasper so far in their wake he couldn’t see the shore, and Rowan standing at the bow of the ship with the sunrise framing him like a halo, Erik was having a hell of a time trying to hold onto that anger.

He went over to join him. When Rowan glanced his way, he made no effort to conceal the raw relief on his face. “You’re okay, then,” he said, more a statement than a question. “That’s good.”

“You do know it was stupid to come after me, yeah?” Erik asked, his voice far less stern than he’d intended.

Rowan leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms over the railing. “You had to know I wasn’t leaving you behind.”

 _No,_ Erik mused, _because anyone else would have left a thief to rot._

_He cares for you a great deal._

Erik could count on one hand the number of people who’d ever cared for him, even a little, and still have fingers left over. It was new, the feeling of warmth in his chest, the glow of certainty that he’d found somewhere, or someone, with whom he belonged. Someone who believed he was worth keeping.

He felt a hand close over his own and went very still. Rowan was looking at him, blue-gray eyes as grave as he’d ever seen them. “Do not do that again,” he warned, adding a slightly shaky “please.”

Erik felt his mouth go dry, and even as Rowan withdrew his hand and turned his gaze back to the sea, he knew without a doubt that he’d absolutely jump in front of _anything_ \- be it a sword, ball of dark magic, or rampaging sabrecat - for him again, without a moment’s hesitation.

He bumped his shoulder against Rowan’s, a brief touch, and when he looked out at the sun rising over the water, Erik had never been so glad he’d listened to the words of a wizened old seer.

 _Put your faith in the Luminary,_ he thought with a small smile, while he let that faith warm him in the light of a new day.

* * *

* * *

 

As he sat at the foot of a long banquet table, dressed in finery with a collar that itched in a room so loud he could scarcely hear his neighbor, let alone his _thoughts,_ Rowan decided he rather despised parties.

Rab sat to his left, regaling his mum with tales of their adventures thus far, all the while shoving copious amounts of roast chicken into his mouth. Erik had been slotted farther down the table, much to his displeasure - although he was likely lucky to be at the table at all, Rowan mused, for the Heliodor guards had not been happy to see the thief who’d tunneled his way out of their prison. Rowan could feel his eyes on him whenever Gemma leaned in close, touching his hand or laughing too loudly at some monosyllabic remark she’d managed to drag out of him. He had to fight the urge to clamber over the table to apologize to him, as ridiculous as the feeling was. He’d had _that_ conversation with his childhood friend after Yggdrasil, he remembered, and wondered just how long his to-do list would grow before he managed to cross out the first problem at hand.

_Speaking of which._

Carnelian sat opposite, at the table’s head - Hendrik at his right, Jade at his left. When she caught him looking, Jade grinned and crossed her eyes, and the laugh that burst free of his chest startled him. He noticed when Gemma leaned back in her own chair beside him, blonde eyebrows furrowing, and Rowan had to stifle a sigh. He pasted on a faux smile and reminded himself that, at the very least, he’d get to sleep in an actual _bed_ at the night’s end.  

Turning to stone had left him feeling so tired.

Rowan’s gaze slid from the Princess to the monster posing as her father and stiffened. Carnelian met his stare, the corner of his mouth curving upwards into something that couldn’t quite be called a smile. He lifted his goblet, tilted it in the Luminary’s direction, and took a hearty sip.

Rowan felt his leg start to bounce, and pressed a hand to his knee under the table in an attempt to make it be still.

In the handful of days it had taken his ragtag team to make the trip from Arboria to Heliodor, he’d come up with nothing in terms of a _plan_ , and his nerves were as frayed as the rope he was nearing the end of, so to speak.

He desperately needed a plan.

Were it a straightforward fight, Rowan liked his chances. He’d bested Mordegon before, and that was  _after_ he’d absorbed the World Tree’s power. Downgraded Mordegon he could handle, he was sure. This incessant game of cat and mouse, however, was not the Luminary’s strong suit. Something needed to change, _fast_ , before he stood on the table and challenged the apparent King of Heliodor to a duel in the middle of a banquet in his honor, consequences be damned. He was not a tactician.

He needed to talk to Jasper.

The disgraced knight had been down in the dungeon for days, allegedly shouting to the walls for all the good it would do him, and Rowan desperately wanted to know what it was he had to say. It might not be much in the way of a plan, but it was a step, and he was quite sick of standing still. Every time he tried to head toward the stairs that would lead him down to the cell block, someone inevitably called him away.

His foot started to tap once more, a maddening rhythm, and Rowan caught the king looking his way once more. Carnelian lifted an eyebrow, as clear a challenge as any other the Luminary had ever received.

_Your move._

Rowan turned his glare down at his own plate and wished he’d paid more attention years ago, when Gemma had wanted to teach him to play chess.  

 

 

The hall outside his guest chamber had been silent for at least an hour when Rowan heard footsteps.

He’d been tossing and turning for likely just as long, unable to drift off to sleep. The clock overhead ticked softly, it's rhythm aggravating rather than soothing. He couldn’t stop _thinking_ , and the constant reminder of time passing while an enemy haunted the castle was far more a hindrance than anything else. Rowan picked at a stray thread in the blankets, winding it around his finger until it went numb before releasing it.

Perhaps he could tell Rab. His grandfather would believe him, _surely_ , if he told him Mordegon was -

The footsteps drew closer, and Rowan held his breath.

Maybe it was Erik, unable to sleep in a new place without someone with him. They’d been sleeping close for months now, at this point, _maybe…_

The burst of hope that had bloomed in his chest died away as quickly as it’d unfurled, leaving a cold and hollow ache in its place. The footfalls outside the door were far too heavy, belonging to a larger person, and Erik knew how to keep his steps silent, when he wanted them to be.

The handle turned and the door creaked open. Rowan shut his eyes tightly before opening them just slightly, and tried to slow his breaths. The door gaped wide and the shadow that slipped inside was huge. His blood ran cold, for he knew the intruder instantly.

The king crossed the room slowly, the swish of his cloak dragging against the floor audible in the otherwise silent room. He cast a quick glance at the bed, and Rowan could feel the blood pounding in his ears. His fingers itched to grab the sword at his bedside.

Carnelian reached for it, only to jerk his hand away with a sharp cry of pain. “What is this? Why can I not touch the sword?” he hissed, taking a stumbling step backwards.

Rowan couldn’t stay still any longer. He rolled over, closing his grip around the hilt of the blade that had refused the king and found his feet. “I could hazard a guess.”

“Accursed Luminary,” Mordegon spoke, and a chill ran up Rowan’s spine. “so you do know me. I’d thought as much. Surrender the Sword of Light, for it belongs to me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Rowan argued, “but you could set the king free, and we’ll see how it goes from there.”

“Foolish child,” his words came out in a hiss, “there is nothing left but for me to reclaim that blade. You may stall for time, but make no mistake - that is all you have, and it will run out. You will die at my hand like your father before you, and the rest of your companions will meet the same fate if you continue to stand in my way.”

Rowan felt it keenly, as something inside him twisted and snapped. He was no longer paralyzed by fear but spurred into action with it, as anger coiled like a snake in his belly.

The sword in his hand drove forward, plunging upwards into the King’s chest right as the door fell wide open once more, light spilling into the room.

Distantly, he thought he heard someone shout his name.

Carnelian let out a harsh, strangled sound as he fell to his knees. Rowan felt his arm pull back, a puppet on a string, and brought the sword free with it. He stared at the crumpled man before him as the flames died away, the haze in his eyes fading into a shock that left him numb. Rowan’s gaze fixed on the king - where blood should have poured, shadows leaked out, wisps of sinister smoke seeping from a catastrophic wound.

“Rowan!”

He heard it clearly that time, as much an accusation as it was a plea. He felt the hilt slip from his fingers as it fell to the ground, and slowly turned his head towards the door.

He’d fought plenty of monsters, but he’d never killed a person before.

Jade stared at him with abject horror on her face, a hand lifted to cover her mouth. “What-”

Hendrik appeared at her shoulder. “Princess? What is the meaning of this?” he asked, and Rowan could see the moment when he took in the scene, processed it. His face hardened and he lifted a hand, a finger pointing his way. “Arrest the Darkspawn!”

They were back to _that_ , it would seem.

Guards swarmed the room in an instant. Rowan didn’t fight them as they took his arms, twisting them behind his back. He dropped his eyes back to the dying man at his feet and noted he still wasn’t _bleeding_ so much as he was burning. “Get Serena,” he told Jade, his own voice sounding very far away.

“Be _silent_!” Hendrik roared, cold fury in his eyes, and Rowan obeyed at once.

“Let me through!”

The demand came from the hall, and Rowan’s head snapped towards the sound. He’d know that voice anywhere.

Erik was trying to push his way into the room, one hand curled around the dagger in his belt. He shrugged off Jade’s hand when she reached out to grab his shoulder and when his eyes found Rowan, they narrowed, a hard determination lining his face. Rowan knew what he would do, knew with certainty he’d get himself locked up or killed in his effort, and shook his head frantically.

The corners of Erik’s mouth turned down in a severe frown, but he slowly took his hand away from his weapon. For the first time that evening, Rowan felt himself relax.

“What’s going on?” Erik shouted as the guards dragged Rowan out through the crowded doorway. The thief followed.

Rowan craned his neck to look behind him and mouthed, _I’m okay._

The other boy slowed his steps with a clear reluctance, but didn’t look away. Rowan held his gaze until the guards hauled him to the stairs and the other boy fell out of sight. Only then did he let his eyes fall closed.

When they tossed him into a dim, damp holding cell in an all too familiar dungeon, he collapsed backward into a pile of hay with a sigh.

That was _one_ way to unmask Mordegon, he thought, even if it wasn’t likely the best path he could have taken.

Without a clock on the wall, Rowan had no way of knowing the time. In mere moments, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

* * *

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Rowan sat up, his back ramrod straight. Erik stood before him in the semi-darkness, deft fingers wrapped around the cell bars that separated them. He wore a brighter grin than Rowan had seen on him in days. “What are you-”

“Let’s go somewhere else, okay? Close your eyes,” the other boy ordered, and Rowan blinked.

The sunlight startled him, bright and sudden. Rowan looked around, taking in the sounds of rushing water and the smell of wildflowers on the breeze. “Cobblestone Falls,” he murmured, “but what are we doing here?”

Erik stretched out next to him, lounging backward against a rock and tilting his face up to the sun. “Would you prefer we stayed in the dungeon? We could go back, I guess.”

“No, this is better,” Rowan told him. He knew he was staring, but couldn’t quite remember _why_ he wasn’t supposed to. Erik dropped him a sly wink, and Rowan felt his cheeks flush.

“I have to say, that wasn’t a very cool move you pulled back there.” Erik’s voice was light, teasing.

For a moment, Rowan was confused. “With the king? I know, but you don’t understand-”

“Not,” Erik interrupted, “with the king. Dropping a bomb like that and then bailing to another timeline. Who does that?” He smirked. “What if I had something to say _back?_ ”

Rowan sucked in a breath and held it. His stomach turned in a somersault. He was certain the sky could have fallen in, and all he would have noticed was the slow curl of Erik’s smile.

 _“What?”_ He choked on the word, and suddenly felt a rush of fear.

_Please, Goddess above, do not let this be some sort of sick joke._

Erik must have seen the panic in his eyes, for his expression softened. He reached over, lacing their fingers together. “It’s alright, I forgive you.” With his free hand, he pressed his thumb to the knot between Rowan’s brows, smoothing out the skin there. “I keep telling you that one of these days your face will freeze like that.”

The air he’d been holding in left him in a violent shudder as Rowan fell forward, burying his face into the crook of the other boy’s neck. Erik’s arms came up around him, a vice grip, and he felt fingers slide into his hair. His throat burned, but Rowan tried to ignore it as he breathed him in, a balm to an open wound.

He hoped one of these days he’d stop _crying_. In the next moment, realization washed over him, a cold flood.

Rowan stayed where he was for one moment, then another, before pulling back slightly, just enough to meet Erik’s eyes. “This is just a dream,” he whispered, “it isn’t real.”

Erik’s fingers fell from Rowan’s hair to the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful as he gently pressed into his skin. “We’ve seen a lot of weird things,” he said, “I’d be willing to bet it’s real anyway, dream or not.”

Rowan’s laugh was subdued as he leaned forward, giving in to his light pressure and resting his forehead against Erik’s. “I’ve missed you. So much. I start to think that maybe it wasn’t worth it, but then…”

“But then you see Veronica,” Erik finished for him, “and it is. I knew what we were signing up for too, you know. Besides, it’s not as if I’m not _there_.”

“It isn’t the same,” Rowan admitted. “I don’t know how to act around you. I got so used to _this_ ,” he squeezed Erik’s fingers between his own, dropping his gaze to their entwined hands, “I don’t know how to go back to before.”

“It might not be as hard as you think.” Erik told him. He leaned back, pulling Rowan down into the grass with him. His voice was teasing when he added, “you do tend to over-complicate things.”

“Don’t I know it.” Rowan mumbled. He rested his head over the steady pound of Erik’s heart and closed his eyes. “Do you think - could we stay here for a bit? Just like this?”

He felt the brush of lips against his temple. “I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. Tell me what you think.


	5. 4: All Through the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, you guys continue to slay me with your wonderful comments. I eat that shit up, let me tell you. I hope you all continue to enjoy this self-indulgent nonsense, and that everyone who celebrates has a wonderful holiday this week. <3

* * *

 

_Chapter 4: All Through the Night_

_All through the night_  
_I'll be awake and I'll be with you_  
_All through the night_  
_This precious time, when time is new_  
_Oh, all through the night today_  
_Knowing that we feel the same without saying._  
_We have no past we won't reach back_  
_Keep with me forward all through the night,_  
_And once we start the meter clicks,_  
_And it goes running all through the night._ _  
Until it ends there is no end._

* * *

 

_Before_

 

Flames hissed and crackled in the hearth, the only sound in the small cabin. While he watched them dance, Erik wondered just how many times he’d have to keep vigil at Rowan’s bedside, waiting with jittery nerves for him to open his eyes.

He’d been worried enough when they were separated in the snowstorm, as most of their friends weren’t quite used to the harsh cold, but the spike of terror he’d experienced when Rowan hit the ground in a dead faint after a brief fight with the ice witch had been a new feeling.

Or perhaps not so new, he mused, as he’d reluctantly adjusted to the idea of caring for him. He knew where his gaze flew first when the haze of battle faded, after all. He knew too who was usually looking right back at him.

Erik leaned forward, hesitating only a moment before lifting Rowan’s limp hand off the blanket in both of his own and bringing it up to his mouth, letting out a puff of warm air. As he tried to rub some heat back into frozen fingers, he tried again to convince himself it didn’t have to mean _something_. He’d help any of his friends. He used to the very same for his sister, when she’d run around in the snow without gloves, though he could concede that he’d certainly thought about it less - like whether or not Rowan would _want_ him to warm his hands, were the other boy awake, or if it would be a line crossed. It was one he toed carefully and thought more and more about with every passing day.

Mostly, he wanted to know if he was right to hope, when he felt touches linger just a heartbeat too long to be entirely platonic, or when he caught Rowan’s gaze, only for him to look away quickly, the faintest tinge of color rising to his cheeks. Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see and fooling himself.

No, the wanting wasn’t new, but the bone-deep terror that came with it was.

It had been such a long time since Erik had let himself care about anyone, and even longer still since he’d cared what someone else thought about him.

The cold didn’t help, he thought, exhaling again onto Rowan’s fingers. He absolutely hated this place.

Memories haunted every corner. By the gates he could almost see the ghost of a little boy, waiting for a father that would never come back home. The church on Main held specters of a mother desperate for breath, gasping the words ‘take care of her’, and remained home to the priest who’d turned a blind eye when two orphans left tracks in the snow alone. He’d stare out to sea and watch phantoms dance on the water, promises of safety and certainty that turned out to be another lie, another trap. He could hear a voice on the wind, of a little girl he’d put first always and still failed in the end.

But Erik had learned, and learned well.

No one stayed with him, not really.

He pressed the Luminary’s hand to his own forehead and wondered when he’d lose him, too.

The door swung open, bringing in a cold draft. Erik hastily dropped Rowan’s hand and tried to cover the movement by tugging the blanket back up to the other boy’s chin.

Veronica stood in the doorway, fixing him with an all too knowing look before slamming the door shut and shaking snow from her braids. “I’ll take a turn with the invalid. Go get some rest.”

“I’m good here,” Erik argued, dropping his gaze back to Rowan’s face. He wanted to see his eyes open, possibly more than he’d ever wanted anything.

“I bet you are, but you haven’t had anything to eat in hours. Plus, you’re starting to smell a bit. Wouldn’t want Rowan to wake up to that, now would we?”

He flushed. “I don’t-”

“Oh, go on,” Veronica interrupted, impatient. “He’s going to be fine. He won’t wake up for a while yet, but I’m just as capable of holding his hand as you are, even if he might not be quite as fond of mine as yours.”

He could practically feel the color drain from his face. “Don’t,” he stammered, searching for a denial, “don’t-”

Her face softened, and if anything, that made it worse. “Wow, I really spooked you. Okay, calm down. I only tease because-”

“Don’t tell him,” Erik whispered.

One of her hands fell to her hip. With the other, she mimed zipping her lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But maybe you should. I might not be an expert in matters of the heart, but come on. Anyone can see that boy is just as stupid over you as you are about him.”

“Shh,” Erik hissed, his eyes flicking between Rowan’s still form and the smug sage. “I do not want to have this conversation with you.”

“Why not?” Veronica bit her lip to hide a small smile, but she did lower her voice. “Seems to me this should be good news.”

“Believe it or not,” he ground the words out, “that’s not entirely what I’m worried about.” Erik cast one last look at Rowan before pushing up to his feet, wincing as his muscles protested the sudden movement. “You win, I’m out.”

“If you want my opinion-”

“I really don’t,” Erik interrupted, crossing the cabin with determined steps. Veronica reached out and grabbed his sleeve, openly grinning.

“Don’t be like that. Listen,” she continued, ignoring him when he groaned, “there’s nothing wrong with letting someone know you care for them.”

“The people I care for don’t tend to stick around,” Erik muttered, before casting his eyes down at his shoes.

“But sometimes they do,” Veronica told him, her voice firm. “Rowan’s not going anywhere, and neither are the rest of us, okay? Don’t be stupid.”

Erik let out a breath, half laugh, half exasperation. “Sure, okay.” He put his hand on the door, braced for the cold.

“And Erik?”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, impatient.

“I’ll let you know right when he wakes up.”

When Erik stepped out into the cold, he was smiling.

* * *

* * *

 

Awareness came over him in slow waves, a gently rising tide.

The air was cool and damp with a pervading musty smell - gone was the sun in his eyes, a lavender breeze playing through his hair, and a most beloved heartbeat under his ear, soothing like a favorite lullaby.

Realization, when it finally arrived, was crushing.

It was just a dream after all, he’d suspected as much, but Rowan would have sold the world or worse just to stay there for a moment longer.

He kept his eyes closed for another second before staring up at the ceiling. The night before flooded back to mind.

_By the Goddess, he’d stabbed the King of Heliodor._

Rowan pushed up from the floor with a gasp, his mind racing - he’d _murdered_ someone. The Luminary, the destined force for good, had killed someone. He was horrible, what was he going to say to _Jade?_ They were absolutely going to hate him, and he’d deserve it.

He paused mid-step when someone caught his gaze.

Erik was slumped against the other side of the bars, legs stretched into the hallway while his chin dipped forward to rest against his chest. Even in sleep, the fingers of his left hand wrapped the hilt of his dagger.

 _Oh._ Rowan wondered if perhaps his heart bursting free of his chest and falling out at his feet might be easier, compared to holding all of this _feeling_ inside with nowhere to place it.

He crossed the scant space between them and knelt down at Erik’s back. For a moment, he mused over what might happen, if Rowan trailed his fingers up the line of his neck to trace the skin there before losing his fingers in his hair. In another time, Erik would wake and turn into his touch, opening to the tenderness like a flower to the sun, and Rowan could press forward and claim his mouth through the bars, and kiss him with everything he had, all the pain of missing him since the day he’d left the tower-

He wanted it so badly he ached with it.

But it _was_ another time, a place that only existed in memory and dreams, so Rowan dropped his hand onto Erik’s shoulder instead.

“Hey,” he murmured when the other boy startled awake, fingers tensing around his weapon. “You alright?”

Erik blinked the sleep from his eyes, his brow furrowing. “Me?” he asked, the word rougher than sandpaper. “You’re the one behind bars, or did you forget?”

Rowan couldn’t have stopped his smile even if he’d wanted to. “You didn’t have to sleep there, you know.”

“Yeah I did,” Erik muttered, wincing as he stretched the kinks from his back. “Though I admit, falling asleep wasn’t my-”

“Oh, do spare me this saccharine display,” a bored voice called from another cell. “There are those of us who would vastly prefer to waste away our incarceration unconscious, if you wouldn’t mind ceasing your lovelorn drivel.”

“Shut it, Jasper,” Erik snapped, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Speak to me like that again, thief, and I’ll divest you of your tongue,” Jasper came up to the bars, where Rowan could see him. He looked smaller without shining silver plate metal, far less threatening with dark circles lining his eyes.

“Well, you can certainly _try,”_ Erik taunted, a smirk curling his lips, turning back around to face Rowan. When he met his gaze, he could see past the smile to the shadows in his eyes, walls that had been torn down, once, and Rowan _knew._

He didn’t remember the dream. Rowan’s shoulders slumped. _Was none of it real at all?_   _Was it all in his head completely?_

Erik’s grin fell away. “What’s wrong?”

Before he could find his voice for an answer, Jasper saved him.

“And what, pray tell, is the blessed Luminary doing back in the dungeon? Did our revered king decide you were too much trouble after all?” There was an obvious bitterness in his words when he continued, “It must be most difficult indeed to uphold his charade.”

Rowan’s gaze jerked to the disgraced night, while Erik’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?” the latter demanded.

Jasper arched one blond eyebrow before breaking out into a slight grin. “What’s this? Trouble in paradise? Why, Luminary, I didn’t know it was like you to keep _secrets-_ ”

Erik’s eyes landed on him, and Rowan scowled at his fellow prisoner. “No, it’s nothing,” he said to his friend.

Jasper’s smile widened. “Don’t trust the marauding cur? I can’t say I blame you. You can never quite know if one of those knives is going to end up between your shoulders-”

“That’s enough,” Jade interrupted, her voice stern as she walked down the corridor in their direction. Hendrik stood at her back, his face impassive, and everyone fell silent at once. She stopped just outside Rowan’s cell, and Erik shifted in between them with a stony expression.

Jade met his stare with an impatient one of her own. “You aren’t even supposed to be down here,” she scolded, “beat it, Erik.”

He didn’t budge. “Not a chance.”

“Oh, honestly. I need to speak to Rowan, do you really believe I’d hurt him?”

Erik remained stubbornly silent. Rowan reached out through the bars and touched his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said, “I want to talk to Jade.”

Erik hesitated, clear reluctance in his eyes. Hendrik shifted to one side. “You may wait at the top of the stairs,” he said, “the Luminary’s companion from Cobblestone is stationed there as well.”

Rowan watched his face grow even darker for a moment before all emotion vanished completely. Erik offered him one last blank look over his shoulder before heading up the stairs without another word.

Jade glanced in Jasper’s direction before turning back to face Rowan, wrapping her fingers around the bars as she leaned in. “Care to tell me what happened last night?”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan blurted out, “truly, I am. I never meant to kill him, I don’t know-”

Jade held up a hand to stall his ramblings. “My father isn’t dead, but I would like to know exactly what it was you _did_ mean to do.”

Rowan blinked and let out a heavy breath. “He’s not?”

Jade considered him for a moment before speaking, clearly choosing her words carefully. “No. It took most of the night, and just about all Rab and Serena had - along with the palace’s healers - but as of this morning his condition is stable.”

“Oh,” Rowan paused. “Did he say anything?”

“He said a great many things, yes,” Jade answered, “but now I’d like to hear what you were thinking, if you don’t mind.”

“He wasn’t King Carnelian,” Rowan spoke quickly, nearly tripping over his words, “I know it sounds crazy, but he hasn’t been the king for a long time.”

He thought he heard Jasper chuckle from his cell.

Hendrik’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue. Jade nodded slowly, her face giving nothing away. “And who did you think he was?”

Rowan sank his teeth into his bottom lip. “Mordegon.”

“So he came into your room and you stabbed him with the Sword of Light,” Jade said, “what made you think he was Mordegon?”

 _What indeed._ “A vision,” Rowan told her, the word sounding more like a question. “I saw it in a vision of my father’s death. The night of the Colloquy when Dundrasil fell, Mordegon possessed Carnelian and killed King Irwin.”

 _Not a total lie,_ he thought.

Hendrik cleared his throat. “Loathe as I am to confirm this madness, Princess, but that portion of his tale is correct. I happened upon His Majesty right after King Irwin fell, and he claimed it was in his own self-defense.”

Jade looked between the two, her eyes flicking briefly to Jasper before settling back on Rowan. “So instead of telling the rest of us, you decided to try to kill him instead?”

“I didn’t...it wasn’t my intention. He tried to steal the sword, he threatened all of you…” Rowan trailed off before admitting, “I didn’t know what to do.”

Jade fell silent for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Last night, after they dragged you away, he - the king, that is - said very strange things, and he wasn’t _bleeding,_ not really, it was more like-”

“Shadows,” Rowan supplied, his voice soft, “like he was bleeding shadows.”

“Exactly,” Jade agreed, “he lost consciousness, once the shadows stopped and he started bleeding normally, anyway, they had enough time to seal his wound well enough to save him. Afterward, when he woke up again, he said he had no recollections at all past the night you mentioned. His last memory is of looking for me, nearly seventeen years ago, while monsters swarmed Dundrasil castle,” she hesitated, “and I believe him.”

“It destroyed him,” Rowan whispered, stunned. “The Sword of Light. It-it must have killed Mordegon, without killing the king.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, as well,” Jade paused. “There will have to be a trial, but I will speak for you, of course. I knew - I _hoped_ \- that you had some sort of justifiable reason for attacking him, and it seems like whatever happened last night restored my father back to himself.”

Rowan leaned forward, resting his forehead against cool metal and wrapping his fingers over hers on the bars. “Thank you,” he breathed out, relief leaving him dizzy, “thank you.”

He felt the brief press of a kiss against his temple. “Perhaps next time you could talk to me, or any of our friends really, before you resort to attempting to murder a king.”

Rowan felt his knees start to shake. “Yeah,” he choked out, “I’ll do that.”

“Come, Princess,” Hendrik nodded in the direction of the staircase before turning his gaze to Rowan, something far less trusting in his eyes. “You will be released to your quarters at first light. You will be confined there until after your trial, but the Princess wishes for you to have better accommodations.”

“And like a dog at the end of his leash begging for scraps, you oblige her,” Jasper spoke up, his voice taunting, “why am I not surprised-”

Hendrik whirled around to face his former comrade, his expression positively thunderous. “Do not speak to me, you-you traitorous bastard. You knew of this, all of this sinister malfeasance, and yet you betrayed your kingdom, you betrayed  _me,_ ” his voice shook with emotion, and even Jade looked stunned. “You are lucky to be alive,” he spat.

After a beat, Jade stepped forward and laid a hand on his armored shoulder. Hendrik fell silent and turned away from Jasper’s cell, his hands balled into fists. “I apologize for my outburst, Your Highness.”

“That’s alright,” she murmured, and nudged him toward the doorway, casting one last look back at Rowan. “You’ll be out soon. Erik and Gemma are upstairs, I’ll see if they can be allowed down,” she said, before steering Hendrik out of the corridor. The cell block descended into silence once more.

Jasper openly glowered after them, and Rowan watched, curious despite himself.

“Why do you feel the need to antagonize him?” he asked.

Jasper snorted, but gave no other response.

“He cares for you,” Rowan continued, “you were friends once, I don’t understand why-”

“Then do not attempt to,” Jasper snapped. “If you are so keen for conversation, Luminary, then answer me this. Why bother to spare my life? I have no intentions to help you.”

“Then don’t help me, help yourself, Rowan countered. “Mordegon is - hopefully - gone, you have no reason to stay loyal to him anymore. You could speak against him, help us figure out what happened. They’d probably be grateful, even.”

“And what is their gratitude worth to me?” Jasper leaned his back against the wall, casting his gaze down at his feet. “There will come a day when you learn the harsh truth, Luminary - you speak of loyalties, friendships, _love,_ even - these things are fleeting, a mere flickering flame, soon to go out. Power is what lasts, and with it lies true strength. I sought that opportunity, had it in my grasp, but it is gone now. Allowing my master to kill me after my failure would have been kinder. You’ve only postponed my execution.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Rowan told him. He heard footsteps on the stairwell, caught the smell of food wafting down the corridor. His stomach rumbled. “I knew someone else under Mordegon’s influence, she was manipulated, twisted by him. If he got his grip on you seventeen years ago, I believe it could have been the same way for you, to a more extreme degree, even.”

Jasper cut his gaze in Rowan’s direction before offering a bitter, sad smile. “Don’t make excuses for me. My choices were my own, and besides, were I to speak for myself, I assure you, no one would hear me.”

“Maybe, but everyone is capable of making poor choices, under harsh circumstances,” Rowan said, as the guard stepped forward to distribute their meals, utterly uninterested in their conversation. “You have a second chance, you should consider using it.”

“What a delightfully naive world you live in, Luminary,” Jasper mocked, “to believe in change simply because you _wish_ for it. There is no such thing as a slate wiped clean, for not all stains fade with time.”

Rowan stared at him. He thought the guard might have spoken to him, but he didn’t hear, past the buzzing in his ears.

He jumped when fingers snapped in front of his face.

“Eat up,” the guard announced, his voice impatient. “The Princess insists you be allowed to see your guests after your meal.”

Jasper’s words echoed in his ears, and he kept his eyes on his fellow prisoner. “No,” Rowan whispered, “I don’t want to see them.”

Despite the semi-darkness of the dungeons, he thought he saw Jasper smile.

* * *

* * *

 

Somewhere nearby, a child was crying.

Rowan opened his eyes, disoriented for only a moment before he recognized his surroundings - somewhere he’d only been once, and nearly a year before at that.

The slums smelled even worse the second time around.

The clouds were dark and heavy above, the sun nowhere in sight. He got to his feet and turned around, deciding the noise was likely coming from the shack behind him. As he walked closer, he noticed the cries were punctuated by an odd squeaking. When Rowan clambered on top of a barrel to reach the one small, broken window and peaked warily inside, he discovered the source at once.

“Give him back, he’s scared,” Rowan heard a small voice pleading.

A burly man held a tiny bird in one hand and was sneering down at the child at his feet. “What have I told you ‘bout bringing animals home?” He slurred his words when he spoke, and Rowan could see multitudes of empty bottles littering the room.

The boy ducked his blond head, looking down at dirty bare feet. “He’s hurt,” he sniffled, “I wanted to-”

With little warning, the man closed his fist with a sickening crunch, and Rowan flinched.

The boy screamed, fresh tears springing forth and sliding down his cheeks. “N-No, Papa, _please-_ ” he sobbed.

The man opened his fingers, letting a small, broken body fall to the floor. Rowan felt his mouth drop open, fury boiling the blood in his veins.

“Just a weak, useless thing,” the child’s father snorted. The little boy dropped to his knees, his breaths coming in loud hiccups. “Better off dead,” the man continued. He curled his fingers around the neck of an empty bottle with a grimace and threw it, spitting, “now stop that damn crying!”

Rowan pressed his hands to what remained of the glass and tried to pry the window open. When it didn’t budge he watched, seething, as the little boy fell silent and gathered the bird up into his hands. Shoulders hunched forward, he pushed his way out the door of the shack and out of sight. Rowan scrambled down from his perch. When his boots touched the dirt, he rounded the house.

He found the little boy on the other side of the building. Tear tracks shined on pale skin, but he worked silently, pushing his fingers into the dirt to cover the remains of the bird, before stacking a small rock on top.

The makeshift grave wasn’t alone. Rowan felt his stomach turn over as the child sat back on his heels, looking at the short line of stones making the things he’d brought home to love, only to watch them be destroyed.

Rowan took a few steps closer, careful not to startle him. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching out. The boy turned around. There was a smear of blood from a cut over one of his eyes, but he looked right through Rowan as if he weren’t even there.

As if he couldn’t see him at all.

“Do you need help?” A new voice asked, and Rowan spun around.

Another young boy stood behind him. He was dressed in a neat tunic and had boots on his feet, a sharp contrast to the child kneeling in the dirt. His hair was slightly darker, the line of his shoulders straight and proud, and Rowan recognized him at once.

In the next moment, with a slowly dawning horror, he realized who the other was, and knew this was a dream he would not be welcome in, a nightmare he should never have borne witness to.

“ ‘M fine,” the blond boy whispered, keeping his eyes cast downward.

“You’re not,” the newcomer - _Hendrik,_ at no more than seven years old - insisted. “You’re bleeding,” he continued, sounding scandalized. “You could come with me.”

The younger version of Jasper looked up, his dirt-stained hands flying to the cut over his eye. He glanced at the blood on his fingers with little interest before turning his gaze back up to the boy before him. “Come with you?” he echoed.

Overhead, the clouds cleared away as the sun fought its way through the gloom.

Hendrik smiled and held out a hand. “To the castle,” he said brightly, “they can take care of you there, if you want.”

Jasper blinked, looking incredulous. Hendrik wiggled his fingers, adamant, and Rowan watched as Jasper reached up from the ground and placed a trusting hand in his.

 

With little warning, the dream changed - the sky shifted, a wild swirl of color giving way to darkness as the landscape disintegrated. The lines of ramshackle buildings and piles of trash were gone, and in the blink of an eye, Rowan stood on an empty shore, overlooking a storm-tossed sea that blurred around the edges.

Bewildered, he tried to take a step and tripped, falling forward onto his hands. When he looked down, his feet were bare, sinking into the sand as the tide rolled away. He bucked forward, trying to pull free, but his legs wouldn’t move.

While panic clawed at his throat he took a deep breath, then another.

 _Just a dream,_ he thought, though certainly an odd one at that. He had no control here.

He heard a now-familiar cry for help and scanned the water line. A blond head - Jasper again, he was sure, and still just a child- bobbed in the waves. He called out again, sucking in seawater in his desperation to be heard over the ocean’s crash.

Rowan’s eyes darted to another figure as Hendrik appeared. He was only a handful of years older than he was before, and even more easily recognizable. He stumbled out of the sea and into the sand, coughing water from his lungs. His arms were wrapped around a smaller, water-logged figure, and when Rowan saw a slick black ponytail and a tiny, pale face, he felt another jolt of recognition.

_Jade._

Hendrik set the little girl down on her own feet, keeping a careful hand on her shoulder. He looked out to sea, his eyes finding Jasper as he struggled. Rowan watched with surprise as Hendrik turned his back on the water and pressed forward, guiding Jade along with him.

“I’ve not had this dream in quite some time.”

Rowan startled before turning to see Jasper next to him, as he knew him now.

In his own dream, Jasper was back in shining silver armor without a hair out of place, immaculate. Reluctantly, Rowan could admit that he was beautiful - in the way deadly things often were, sharp and proud as a falcon on the hunt, gliding on the wind, or the still glass of a frozen lake, right before the surface cracked and you sank into a deep, icy abyss.

“He thrives on it, you know,” Jasper mused, his voice bitter, “having someone weaker than him to protect, something broken to put back together. But once he’s built you up so you can stand on your own, he no longer knows what to do with you. He no longer _wants_ you, and tosses you away like a discarded plaything.”

Rowan blinked but couldn’t quite find something to say. He stayed silent as Jasper stared out to sea and watched the child he’d been once struggle and drown, his face impassive, empty.

But emptiness was temporary, Rowan knew. Something broken could be fixed, an empty vessel filled, so long as someone stepped forward and made the effort. He looked down at the mark on his hand and sighed, reminding himself that all shadows faded with enough light.

“I must say, I’m can’t figure out what you’re doing here, Luminary.”

_That makes two of us._

“So you can see me,” Rowan said instead, “the little ones couldn’t. That’s never happened before.”

“They are naught but ghosts, anymore,” Jasper intoned, his eyes narrowing out at the horizon before he turned to face Rowan. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t-” Rowan broke off with a gasp as his feet slipped free and he felt a jerk between his shoulder blades, like a hook beneath his skin. He caught the edge of Jasper’s glare before his vision blurred, and only the crash of the waves remained.

_((End Act I))_


	6. 5: Cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend! Sorry for the (slightly) late update. And maybe I should apologize in advance for this chapter? I did say this was going to be an angst fest, yeah?  
> Thanks to all of you who kudos, comment, and just in general stick around to read this mess. You guys are the absolute best.

 

* * *

 

_ACT II_

_Chapter 5: Cloud_

 

_But still I feel this doubt about us_

_I'm walking in this cloud_

_In this cloud, upon love_

_This road can't be mine, can't be mine_

_Giving it up, giving it up_

_Stand down, drop these weapons now_

_We're walking in this lie, walking in this lie_

_You know I try to compromise_

_We’re walking in this high_

* * *

 

After

The river trickled so slowly past the end of the dock it scarcely seemed to move at all. Rowan had never seen it so...lifeless, before. Despite the darkness of the sky overhead, no stars winked back at him, no stubborn light shined from even the slightest crescent moon. The water was half-dried up and shallower than he’d ever known it, worse than any drought he’d lived through. As he closed his fist around a stone and hurled it into the water, shattering the black surface, he wondered why he’d survived this one.

He should feel lucky, he knew. Many hadn’t survived the World Tree’s fall.

_My fault._

They might never know the true death toll, a number that mounted higher every day, and while he knew it was selfish, all Rowan could think about was whether or not his missing loved ones were among the tally.

He’d see Gemma’s whip of blonde hair across a crowd and think, for just a moment, that it was Serena - he’d look beyond her next, for Veronica, because where one went the other was sure to be close behind. He would trudge into the Last Bastion, returning from another battle and feel a hand on his back, hear a murmured, _‘_ _your grandfather would be proud of you,'_   and Rowan would wonder, _which one?_ He would look across a sea of faces, an array of grim hopelessness, and could practically _see_ Sylvando wading among them, desperate to bring back even one smile. He’d look for Jade across a campfire and catch only a shadow.

But the worst wound had probably opened the first time he ran into Derk.

Rowan couldn’t quite bring himself to care about the shameless way he’d thrown himself at the merchant when he saw him, a question on his tongue, only to have him turn and ask the very same thing.

_“Have you seen him?”_

_Only a hundred times_ _,_ Rowan thought, chucking another rock into the water with unnecessary force, _but none that count._

Whenever Rowan passed his tent, the man would look out with an encouraging smile, shining endlessly in his optimism, and the dark cloud that trailed Rowan like a shadow only grew blacker each time. He was so certain that Erik was _fine_ _,_ just fine, but Rowan _wasn’t_ _,_ and the doubt was eating away at him, hounding his sleep and swallowing him whole the moment he opened his eyes.

Erik could be _dead_ _,_ and Rowan might never know.

To his knowledge, there was no one else out in the world that cared for the thief he’d found in the cells under Heliodor, no one else who would know to look for him, and he _might never know._

He’d never know _exactly_ how to get him to laugh, every single time, or how to win the smile that stretched both sides of his mouth. He wouldn’t know what it was that hurt him, that made him fall silent with ghosts dancing in his eyes, walls around him that went miles high, and he might never learn how to scale them. Rowan could go the rest of his life without knowing if Erik was out there, somewhere just out of his reach, or if they no longer shared the world between them. He’d spend the rest of his days looking across a crowd for the slope of his shoulders, the flash of his grin. He’d look up and meet a pair of blue eyes, only to find they looked more like rain than a cloudless sky. He’d known him for such a short time, but he’d have a gaping hole inside for all the years he had left.

Someone settled down next to him at the end of the dock, but Rowan couldn’t find it in him to look up.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Gemma said, letting her legs dangle towards the water. “I should have known to look here first.”

She leaned her shoulder into his, and Rowan felt nothing.

He’d been plenty relieved to see her, and his mother. But as the days passed, more and more people looked to him with hope in their eyes, and he had less and less to give. Gemma followed his steps, so happy to see him, so _certain_ he’d save them, and, well. He’d been avoiding her.

He felt bad about that, too, but he had more than enough guilt to drown in.

He heard Gemma sigh. “I’m sorry, Rowan.”

He blinked and tilted his head in her direction. “W-what for?” his voice was low and rough with disuse.

“I didn’t think - I know you’ve got friends out there, and you must be worried for them,” Gemma was watching the water. “I’ve got everyone I care for back now, but you don’t, do you? You’re missing them.”

_A good way to put it_ , Rowan mused, _as it's my fault they’re gone._

“Yes,” he said woodenly, after a long moment passed. “I’m worried about them.” He tossed another rock into the water, watched it sink to the bottom. It was a short trip.

Gemma’s voice was softer when she added, “and maybe you’re worried about one of them a little more.”

Rowan’s head snapped in her direction so quickly his neck ached, and Gemma offered him a small, sad smile. “It’s okay, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” he said anyway, “I know, uh-”

“I’ve known a while now,” Gemma interrupted, “there’s really no need to apologize, Rowan.” She leaned back on her hands, looking thoughtful. “You know, my mum used to tell me all these love stories, the ones with brave knights and princesses. It was so easy to see how our lives would go that I never really stopped to think about it until recently. The other girls would start talking about the boys they liked, how they’d bring them gifts and try to kiss them. I remember all those times you’d go to the coast with Chalky and bring me back seashells, or when you’d go to the falls and find a flower that was just the right color for me to make a new paint. You’ve been bringing me things my whole life, just to make me smile. You never needed another reason, and you never wanted anything else. And I loved you for it, but...I also wondered _why_ you didn’t.”

Rowan dropped his gaze to the water and nodded slightly, encouraging her to go on.

“I was so happy when you came back. When you weren’t so glad, I guess I realized that not every love story is the same,” Gemma nudged his knee with her own, “and we don’t always get to pick the direction our stories go.”

Rowan stayed silent for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. “What if he’s dead?” the question broke lose in a ragged whisper.

Gemma didn’t even blink, just reached over and wrapped her hand around his. “I want to tell you he’s not, but we both know that people sometimes go with things left unfinished. But I hope he isn’t, Rowan. You love so selflessly, you deserve to find him again. I hope you do.”

_Hope_ _,_ Rowan thought, staring into the black water beneath the dock until he found the reflection of his eyes and the mirror image of the mark on his hand, _was not an easy thing to find in a world with little light._

* * *

_“How does your despair compare, I wonder?”_

The demon’s voice wrapped around him and squeezed. Shadows crept along the edges of his vision. His father - his spirit? - lay prone on the ground, a man Rowan always wanted to know but had never been given the chance.

_“Give yourself to misery, let anguish consume you.”_

He’d stood beside Hendrik and defeated Tyriant. He brought the light _back._

_Only after you let it go out._

Doubt was a poison in his blood and spread like a stain. Rowan pressed his hands to his ears, screwed his eyes shut. “Get out of my head,” he hissed, uncertain whether or not the words came out, or who he even spoke to.

_“You could not protect your friends, you could not save the world.”_

He’d found his grandfather, pulled him from the Void.

_Only after you lost him to it._

He found Sylvando, reunited a family - two, even.

_Only after you helped tear them apart._

Rowan felt his knees hit the ground. He stuffed his thumbs in his ears as ice flooded his veins, but the demon’s voice continued, a siren song.

_“Your companions are still scattered, those you love remain lost. The world was destroyed at your hand, your light spawned a shadow far greater. Maybe you_ are _the Darkspawn, after all. So precious little left to love…”_

The demon was closer still, and Rowan could practically smell its breath, feel its hunger.

_“You hang on the edge, desperately holding on, only to find it barren on the other side. What hope do you have?”_

He could keep his eyes closed, Rowan realized. He was so tired of _fighting_ , maybe he could rest, for just a little while…

Another voice found him, curling around him with a tenderness that cut through the chill. _“There is a light in you that can never be extinguished,”_ it said, and he wondered if it could be true.

Rowan lifted one foot, then the other. The mark on his hand began to glow, a warmth that radiated despite the cloak of brittle ice that shrouded him. “I choose it,” he whispered. Hope was a razor’s edge, he thought, just as likely to cut as it was to heal, but he clung to it all the while. Until the world was nothing but ashes or light, where shadows once lurked. “I choose hope.”

It would have to be enough.

He stood tall, sword in one hand, the other lifted high overhead, his fingers locked in a tight fist. When he called light down, a fire ignited in the dark, and he burned with it.

* * *

* * *

 

Rowan came to with a loud gasp, pitching forward off his bedding. He had straw in his hands and could still feel the grit of wet sand between his toes, and as he tried desperately to catch his breath, he wondered if he’d ever adjust to his nightly forays, or if they’d one day just disappear completely.

Some nights were certainly better than others, but he would have never imagined he’d miss the simplicity of just sleeping.

When he looked up, Jasper was against the bars of his cell, face pinched tight with murder in his eyes.

“What devilry is this?” he demanded, “how did you-”

_He knew._

Rowan scrambled towards him on his hands and knees before wrapping his fingers around the bars. “You know - y-you remember?” he asked, his heart beating a vicious tempo against the cage of his ribs.

“Remember?” Jasper snarled, “do I remember you invading my mind whilst I slept, why _yes_ _,_ I’d say I remember all too well.”

“It’s real,” Rowan whispered, lifting his hands to his face and pressing cool fingers against his temples. “It’s _real_ _,_ it’s not in my head.” He let out a small, slightly hysterical laugh. Relief left him dizzy before something occurred to him, jarring it its sudden intensity.

_If it was real, that means…_

“ _Erik_ _,”_ Rowan gasped, “in the dream, he knew about _everything_ _,_ he remembered-”

“What nonsense are you dithering about?” Jasper interrupted, “I demand to know what you were doing in my head, Darkspawn.”

“You really need to pick one,” Rowan grumbled, impatience making him snap. “You and Hendrik both, going back and forth between Luminary and Darkspawn, just settle on one and be done with it. Or maybe even, I don’t know, try using my _name-_ ”

“Speak now, bedeviled child,” Jasper said, “or so help me-”

“I don’t know, alright?” Rowan cut him off, “I don’t know how or why, but ever since I came back I’ve been seeing everyone’s dreams.” It was a relief to say it out loud, he thought, as just one small weight lifted from his shoulders, some tension eased from his spine. If only it wasn’t _Jasper_ to whom he was confessing first.

“Come back from where, precisely?”

Rowan froze. “Ah, well. From Yggdrasil.”

Jasper blinked, pure skepticism. Before he could say anything else, Rowan heard footsteps on the stairwell, and both heads turned to find the source.

The warden appeared at the end of the corridor, whistling a cheery tune as he stepped forward to unlock Rowan’s cell. “Come on, then. You’re to be released to your quarters.”

Jasper’s expression changed, so slight that Rowan didn’t have a chance to find out what he was thinking. “Best of luck, Luminary,” he called out, as the warden tugged him towards the stairs. “I imagine I won’t see you again until we both hang from the noose.”

Fear flashed through him, hot and visceral, before something inside him turned to ice. _“What?”_

He wasn’t certain the word made it past his lips, but Jasper caught his question, all the same. There was something close to pity in his eyes. “You attempted to murder the King, I committed high treason. We aren’t so different, you and I.”

The warden tugged him up the stairs, and Jasper left Rowan’s sight. At least his legs were still moving.

In all his hours spent in the dungeon, worrying over other things, he hadn’t honestly entertained the idea that he might _die_.

  


His room looked the same.

Rowan stood just inside the doorway after the warden unceremoniously shoved him inside. The bed was unmade, blankets thrown back. The Sword of Light had been placed back at his bedside - he could, at least, be grateful for _that._ His other possessions littered the top of the dressing table, and-

Erik sat with his back against the wall, sharpening his dagger on a whetstone. “Don’t freak out, it’s only me.”

Rowan wanted to scream, or cry. He mostly wanted to kiss him.

“I could leave, if you want,” Erik continued, testing the tip of his knife before shoving it back into its sheath. His tone was light, but he hadn’t looked at Rowan once. “Since you didn’t want me or your girlfriend to come down to the dungeon.”

“You know she’s not my girlfriend,” Rowan heard himself say first, of all things.

“I’m not so sure she knows that.”

“I am sorry, about yesterday,” Rowan continued, “I needed to speak to Jasper, but it’s- it’s not important. I need to ask you-”

Erik looked up finally, and met his eyes just as a loud knock sounded on the door. Rowan cursed under his breath.

The door flew open as Hendrik stepped inside, barely sparing Erik a glance before his eyes settled on Rowan. “It’s time, Luminary. The King awaits you in the Throne Room.”

Rowan’s stomach turned over, his heart starting up a bruising rhythm. Erik shifted closer to him, a motion so natural it seemed automatic. Rowan gave Hendrik a jerky nod, feeling his throat tighten.

“Whatever happens today,” he murmured to Erik, “let it. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Erik’s expression was grim. “No promises.”

“I _mean_ it,” Rowan whispered urgently as Hendrik’s hand came down to his shoulder to guide him out of the room. “Please.”

Erik’s mouth twisted, almost like something was hurting. He only shook his head before falling in line behind them, a silent shadow.

 

Rowan felt the King’s eyes on him the moment he entered the room. He shuffled forward, pressed on by the weight of Hendrik’s hand while Carnelian looked on from his throne.

He’d only met the real King once before, Rowan realized, though it had certainly been under different circumstances. He looked rather well, for a man who’d had a sword in his chest and a demon in his heart.

someone Rowan had never seen stood off to one side of Carnelian, while Jade sat at his left. She met his gaze and gave the slightest nod, calm and composed, and he let it wash over him. If she was confident, Rowan thought, surely he could be too.

He continued his scan of the room, easily finding Serena and Veronica in the crowd, towards the front. Sylvando stood with them, bent at the waist to whisper to Amber and Gemma. Erik, he knew, had slipped in behind them. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, and the low buzz of voices did nothing to steady his nerves.

Hendrik pushed him to his knees at the base of the dais before ascending the riser himself, standing at Carnelian’s right hand.

“It’s alright now, laddie,” Rab rumbled as he came up to stand next to Rowan, offering a tight smile. “This here is naught but a show for auld men, don’t you worry. We’ll be right as rain.”

“I almost killed him,” Rowan mumbled back, shifting closer to his grandfather. “They’re not exactly happy to see me.”

“Aye, but I’ve about brought Carnelian around, and Jade’s been whispering in his ear,” Rab flicked his gaze in her direction and offered the Princess a wink.

Rowan followed his eyes and watched Jade struggle to conceal a smile. “Who’s the other man up there, behind Hendrik?”

Rab’s expression darkened. “The Chancellor. He’s the one we’ll be worrying about.”

“Oh,” Rowan looked down at his feet. “Thank you,” he said softly, “for being up here.”

“Well, now,” Rab grumbled. He reached out and gave Rowan’s elbow a squeeze. “Where else would I be?”

The Chancellor took a step forward, clearing his throat. The room fell silent.

“We are here today to address the charges against Prince Rowan of Dundrasil, accused of an attempt on the life of the revered King Carnelian, an act of treason in the highest degree. Who will step forward and speak for the accused?”

Rowan blinked and hesitantly lifted a hand. “Can I not say something on my own behalf?”

The Chancellor turned on him with scorn in his eyes. “You’d best mind your tongue, boy. This is no place for your belligerence.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t-” he broke off with a sharp intake of breath as an elbow dug into his ribs. He caught the admonishing look his grandfather shot his way and snapped his mouth closed.

_Were I to speak for myself, I assure you, no one would hear me._

Rowan wondered - with no small amount of reluctance - what else Jasper would prove to be right about.

He felt Rab shift next to him, saw him open his mouth to speak, when another voice came first.

“I will speak for him,” Jade said, rising to her feet.

The Chancellor’s jaw popped open. “Princess,” he began, “this is not-”

“I assure you, Sir Chancellor, that I have a voice and I intend to use it,” Jade interrupted smoothly, “if I am to rule this kingdom one day, it will not be from someone else’s shadow.”

“The act in question was against your father. I insist you not involve yourself,” he continued, scandalized.

“The act in question _saved_ my father,” Jade argued, before looking to the King, her gaze imploring.

Carnelian shifted forward, pressing his hands together. “You will allow Jade to say her piece, Chancellor.”

The corner of Jade’s mouth lifted in the smallest of smiles. “Thank you. While the crime Rowan is accused of is grave indeed, I believe his actions were necessary. Evidence indicates that a sorcerer of great evil has held the King under his thrall for many years now, and without Rowan’s intervention with the Sword of Light, this might have-”

“Intervention,” the Chancellor sneered, “creative truth-telling will not save your friend, your Highness.”

“He saved _you_ _,”_ Jade said, “and all of us. Rowan is the _Luminary_ _,_ it has been his duty, his responsibility from birth to deliver this world from darkness and bring back light, and he did exactly that. While his methods might have been questionable-”

“I must object, your Majesty,” The Chancellor said impatiently, turning to the King while Jade scowled. “Being the Luminary has little bearing in this. We must not focus on the boy’s intentions instead of his actions, which very nearly claimed your life. Were he anyone else, our course would not even be in question.”

“Were he anyone else,” Jade cut in, “Mordegon would still have possession of my father, the ruler of Erdrea’s most prominent kingdom.”

Still, the King said nothing.

Rowan shifted on his feet, his palms growing slick. Jade and the Chancellor’s argument began to blur in his ears, a distant buzz. _Why wasn’t Carnelian saying anything?_

The doors to the Throne Room burst open. Everyone fell silent, and Rowan spun around, one among many.

“What is the meaning of this?” the King finally spoke, his eyes on the lone soldier who stumbled across the threshold.

“Apologies, your Majesty, but - you must come quickly! It’s Erdwin’s Lantern! It-it’s falling!”

Rowan’s blood ran cold, and he couldn’t quite find air.

_Erdwin’s Lantern._

He barely felt it, as bodies shuffled past him. Rab tugged on his sleeve before following the masses to the door. Hendrik was calling for peace, for order, trying in vain to calm the chaos that broke loose.

Eventually, Rowan must have followed. He couldn’t quite remember making the choice to move, to climb the stairs and navigate the halls, to carve himself a place on the crowded balcony, but he found himself there all the same. He tasted fresh air only briefly before he saw the red shadows overhead, and wondered if this was what it felt like to drown.  

 

Slowly, the voices died away. In time, the crowd dissipated, returned to their lives - disturbed, certainly, but content in the knowledge that it was someone else’s problem - all while he stood frozen, hands wrapped around the railing. Rowan stared up at the darkened sky and finally felt his knees give way to the stone balcony beneath.

After a moment he felt a touch on his arm, but couldn’t find it in him to move.

_“Rowan?”_

_“What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”_

“Rowan, are you ill?” A cool hand - Serena’s - pressed to his forehead. He let his eyes fall closed.

Fingers curled around his wrist. “Say something,” Erik demanded, a sharp edge to his voice that only fear could put there.

“How could I have forgotten?” Rowan heard a whisper, and realized belatedly that it was his own. “How could I have forgotten _this?"_

The dark spirit, lost to time, calling the star down. Mordegon, only a shadow, shattering it high above. But Mordegon was _gone_ \- Rowan had done that himself, had saved the world. Or so he’d thought.

_How could I be so stupid?_

“Forgotten what? What are you talking about?” Erik asked, frustrated.

He was only concerned, Rowan knew. Erik had never had much patience for what he didn’t understand. But Rowan was a stone, sinking deep into the waters of his own making, drowning beneath the weight of a responsibility he’d never asked for and the guilt of failing at it, and he could no longer hold fast to the boy he loved to stay afloat.

“Rowan,” Serena was calmer, her voice soft. “Perhaps if you explain, we can help you.”

“No,” he said, his voice flat. He swallowed air, trying to slow his heartbeats. “I can’t.”

“Can’t,” Erik echoed, “or won’t?”

Rowan looked away from the sky for the first time, his eyes finding Erik’s. The thief crouched at his side, brows drawn low over blue eyes, and oh, it _hurt_ _,_ having him so close but having to hold him at such a distance. The ache in his chest was so potent he could barely draw a breath past all his shattered pieces.

Rowan dropped his hands to his lap as his fingers clenched into fists. He was such a fool, to believe he could go back in time and do this alone. Stupid, to think he could navigate uncharted waters, to weather whatever storm came his way.

He wanted to go home, to go _back_ _,_ but it was a place that no longer existed outside of the memories that haunted him.

Erik’s eyes roamed his face and his expression shifted, from exasperation to alarm, at the pain on Rowan’s. “Just tell us what’s going on!”

“Erik…” Serena warned, her hand moving back to Rowan’s shoulder.

Rowan closed his eyes. They were too close, wanted too much. He had so little left.

“Just tell _me_ _,”_ Erik’s voice turned desperate, begging and accusing in one, and Rowan still couldn’t _breathe._

“I can’t!” Rowan snapped, scrubbing his palms over his eyes and raking his fingers through his hair, before springing to his feet. “I can’t, okay? It’s not as if you told me everything either!”

Erik blinked and sank back on his heels, a gap opening between them. The briefest flicker of surprise, of _hurt_ _,_ flashed over his face before a wall came down, a shutter closing behind his eyes.

He regretted the spark even before the flames died away. He’d broken a rule, Rowan knew. This was Erik _before_ the Fall, when he kept his feelings buried and his secrets deeper still, and Rowan wasn’t supposed to ask - once, he’d been more than happy to wait.

Erik looked away, up towards the sky, behind them to the castle - anywhere but at Rowan. “Okay,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. His voice was toneless, mechanical. “Got it.”

Rowan hadn’t believed it possible, to feel even _worse._

Serena chewed on her lip. “Ah. Sir Hendrik is-”

“Luminary! Come. We must conclude your trial,” the knight barked from the door.

Erik spun around on his heel and walked towards the door, shoulders tight. Rowan stared after him. He took a deep breath, then another, and reminded himself that the hole inside his chest wasn’t going away any time soon. He’d simply have to get better at learning to live with his head below water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No dream in this one, in case you were looking for it. Poor Rowan could use some sleep, though.  
> Let me know what you think. I'm also on tumblr @anytaintedcreature if you'd like to throw tomatoes.


	7. 6: For My Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends. I want to thank all of you again for reading this, especially those of you who kudos and comment. I really do love reading everyone's thoughts and theories and such, it's honestly a bit pathetic how much it makes my day. But without further ado, here's another chapter, hopefully a little less heavy than the last one? I think so, at least.   
> Enjoy <3

* * *

 

_Chapter 6: For My Help_

 

_One day you’ll come back here, for my help_

_Someday you’re asked to leave me,_

_Couldn’t it be easy?_

_Silent screams are hurting me,_

_Just ask for my help._

_Then one day you took me out to sea,_

_You grabbed me and pushed me in,_

_You could’ve come with me._

* * *

After

 

He wasn’t sure how long it’d been since he stumbled back above deck and over to the bow of the ship, but no one had come looking for him, not yet, and he would take all the time he could to ensure he could return with a pasted-on smile and a mask to hide his jagged edges.

Despite weeks spent on open waters and swaying on the waves, Rowan hadn’t quite managed to find his sea legs, but that wasn’t what set his heart pounding, twisted his stomach into knots. He knew none of Serena’s leftover potions would cure what ailed him.

For a moment, he watched the sun as it sank low in the clouds, inching closer to the water with every breath before letting his eyes fall closed, his head tilt forward to rest on the railing.

He didn’t think anything would compare to the way he’d felt when he pushed open the door to the cargo hold and saw a familiar green hood, the way his heart had skipped when the intruder turned and it was him, _Erik,_ alive and well and right in front of him. They’d met completely by happenstance before, drawn together by chance,  Rowan thought, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised when the world handed him back in much the same manner.

Maybe there was something to be said for hoping.

But the rest of his friends had filed in behind him, and there was something not quite right in Erik’s eyes - a caged look, a bird with a broken wing or a wolf backed into a corner - and he’d dropped to his knees and begged, and Rowan’s heart broke clean through.

He’d never seen Erik _afraid_ before.

He always seemed to be utterly fearless. An army at their backs was an inconvenience, a cliff before them a challenge. He’d seen Erik frustrated, angry even, but Rowan had also seen his eyes light up with the strength of his smile and had been there to bask in the warmth of his laugh. But he could not remember one instance he’d ever seen him truly _scared,_ and Rowan knew the image of Erik below deck, looking as though he’d have liked nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear, would forever stain the memory of the moment he got him _back._

Rowan heard the shuffle of boots on wooden planks, a throat being cleared, and slowly lifted his head.

Hendrik stepped up to the railing at his side, hands clasped behind his back. He stayed quiet, and Rowan was relieved to see him, of all people.

He still thought it odd, how quickly the knight had gone from enemy to friend. The first time Rowan saw Hendrik after the events at the World Tree, he’d been surprised by the _hate_ that welled up inside, how much he blamed the man for his part in tearing the world to shreds - for trusting Jasper, for leading Mordegon right to Yggdrasil’s heart - but Rowan’s anger had always been a flash fire, burning hot but quick to fade to ashes, and he was unable to hold that rage in his hands for long. They had far too much in common, and plenty of guilt to share between them.

Rowan lingered in the silence for a moment more before letting out a breath. “Is Erik alright?”

Hendrik gave one quick nod. “Yes. He is in Lord Robert’s charge; he set out to give the boy a proper meal.”

Rowan grimaced. Three days, he’d said, since he had anything to eat. It made him feel sick.

He wanted to be the one to care for him, to rejoice in the fact that he was _alive,_ against all odds. He’d needed so badly to know that Erik was okay, wanted to tear what remained of the world apart until he found him in the wreckage and yet, Erik had found him first. Whether by chance or fate or whatever stretched thread still connected them, he couldn’t say.

In his most hopeful moments, he’d imagined what might happen, were they to stumble upon each other again. Rowan knew his hands would ache to reach out and touch, to hold him, for the first time. He wondered if he’d be brave enough to do it, to tell him how much he _missed_ him, to confess just how much of his heart Erik held. He had so much he wanted to say, but the boy he loved looked right through him with nothing but apprehension, without knowing him at all, and Rowan was not as strong as he’d once hoped.

Life had a way of eroding even the most stubborn of things in its path.

“I’m being stupid,” Rowan started, keeping his eyes on the explosion of color in the sky. “I shouldn’t have run away like that.”

Hendrik said nothing, simply inclined his head in Rowan’s direction to indicate he was listening.

“I was so happy to see him, but I just didn’t expect...that,” he continued lamely, “for him not to remember. But I shouldn’t...I should just be glad he’s alive. And I _am,_ I just thought - this isn’t how I thought it would go. But it’s not his fault, it’s mine, for getting my hopes up.”

Goddess, but he never used to be so _bitter._  

“You care for him,” Hendrik said pointedly, and Rowan felt his cheeks burn. He could play the fool, pretend he didn’t understand the implications and more than that, he knew Hendrik would _let_ him - but something about the simplicity of the statement scraped him raw, inside and out, and he found his head bobbing in a nod.

“I apologize then, if I’ve spoken ill of your companion.”

Rowan gave a small, humorless smile. “That’s okay,” he murmured, “he did break into the castle, steal a priceless artifact, and help that evil Darkspawn escape.”

From the corner of his vision, he saw Hendrik’s mouth twitch, the closest he ever came to a smile. “Truth be told, I find it rather impressive.”

“He has a way of doing that,” Rowan said, wistful.

“Then I look forward to meeting him properly, when his memories return.” Hendrik’s brows lowered, thoughtful. “Though I imagine he will not be as eager.”

“Look at you, doling out hope.”

“I’m told we can’t live without it, one way or another,” Hendrik rumbled, and the reluctance in his voice lifted a chuckle from Rowan’s chest.

The moon began to rise, full and glowing in a dark sky, and it drew Rowan’s eyes like a beacon. “I’ve heard that, too.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

The Throne Room was far quieter the second time around.

Most of the onlookers who sought entertainment from the Luminary’s trial had not returned after witnessing Erdwin’s Lantern fall from the sky, and only those who cared for his fate - one way or the other - remained.

All of them, that was, but one.

Rowan had not seen Erik in the room in his quick, desperate scan before he’d resumed his earlier position, kneeling on the floor in front of the King he’d very nearly killed two days prior. Jade was back in her throne, Hendrik between his rulers, and Rab was back at Rowan’s side, but the one who’d stood with him from the start, almost from the very first moment he’d heard the word ‘Darkspawn’ _wasn’t,_ and it left him feeling hollow.

He itched to turn around and check again, to glance over his shoulder and find Erik’s eyes in the crowd, but as the man who would decide his fate today was in front of him, not behind, Rowan kept his gaze forward.

The Chancellor had not returned to the Throne Room, either. Rowan couldn’t help but wonder whether that was good news, or quite the opposite.

The King let out a long breath before rising to his feet, palms pressed together. “I’ve recused the Chancellor from these proceedings. He is right about many things, but perhaps not about this one. He believes we should try to separate the accused from the title of Luminary in the terms of his crimes, but I do not agree. Prince Rowan _is_ the Luminary. They are not separate, nor can they be.”

Rowan sank his teeth into his bottom lip and dropped his eyes to his boots.

Carnelian continued. “The Chancellor also believes that pardoning an attempt on my life will send an unwanted message,” he sighed, “and in that respect, I believe he is correct. But this trial is not an easy one, as this decision is firmly rooted in belief itself. I believe in my daughter when she tells me that I have been subject to possession for many, many years now. I believe in my oldest friend when he says Mordegon was behind the destruction of Dundrasil, and I heed his warnings of the very real threat he posed. I believe that the world _was_ in grave danger.” He looked up, clear weariness in the lines of his face.

“Because of this, to find the Luminary guilty of the crimes for which he stands accused, I had to ask myself if my life is worth more than the lives of my subjects. If my life means more than the life of my child, of my comrades, or any other person who might have fallen victim to Mordegon’s hand, and the answer is no. I would not be a very fit King if I thought my life was worth more than the life of another. Were I asked what I would give, to stop the spread of evil...well, had the price for Mordegon’s defeat been my life, I would have paid it.”

Rowan looked up, eyes widening. Carnelian met his gaze and spoke to him directly.

“On the day of the Colloquy, when your father presented you to us, I had faith then. I believed in the Luminary. Now, all these years later, you stand before me and I find that, despite our circumstances, I _still_ have faith. I think that my daughter said it best. You are meant to deliver us from darkness and bring back light, and you have done so once already. It would appear we need you to find that light again. Will you do so, Luminary?”

Rowan took a deep breath, but did not hesitate. There was only one answer, after all. “Yes.”

King Carnelian’s mouth curled into a small smile. “I like to believe I would have given the same speech _before_ we watched Erdwin’s Lantern descend, but I’ve come to realize we might not know exactly what we’re capable of until fate unfolds before us. Prince Rowan of Dundrasil, you are pardoned of all accusations, found innocent in all wrongdoings. Now,” his voice rose, to be heard over the cheers that exploded behind Rowan, “go save the world.”

Rab broke out into a broad smile. “I told ye, laddie. Right as rain.”

Rowan let out a breath, nearly pitching sideways when Veronica collided with his legs. Serena followed her, offering a more sedate smile. “I’m very pleased you’re not in any more trouble, Rowan,” she started, and he couldn’t help the slight smile that curved his lips. “I was quite worried.”

“Thanks,” Rowan opened his arms the moment before his mother barreled into them. Over her head, his eyes found someone else’s and locked on.

Erik leaned back against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared back for another moment before offering a tight smile, tilting his head in the slightest nod. Someone crossed between them and the spell broke. Erik slipped out the door, disappearing from view.

Rowan let his chin drop onto the top of Amber’s head and closed his eyes. He had a lot of planning to do, and though he’d like nothing more than to burrow into bed and stay there for days, the Luminary’s job was never finished.

 

“I say we go back to Sniflheim,” Veronica’s fingers tapped an impatient rhythm into the table top. “There’s got to be something in that great big library about whatever was in Erdwin’s Lantern.”

Rowan couldn’t help it, the way his eyes darted to Erik across the banquet table, in time to catch the edge of his grimace.

“An excellent idea, darling,” Sylvando said, “we can make our way south to the Emerald Coast and sail from there.”

_Because we don’t have Cetacea,_ Rowan realized a split second before he protested, and nearly groaned aloud. _One more thing for that to-do list._

He wondered if Veronica still had the flute, or how he’d even begin to explain _why_ he knew how to summon an enormous flying whale.

One step at a time.

Hendrik sat rigid in his seat, clearly uncertain of his place. The King had insisted his knight join them on their quest, and while Rowan _was_ glad of an opportunity to reconnect with a friend he’d lost in returning, he too had little clue for how to proceed. They had been forced together once, though, and that had turned out well enough.

Serena yawned. “That all sounds wonderful. It’s getting awfully late, though, I imagine we’d best get some sleep for tomorrow.”

“Too right lassie. Now-”

The door swung open, a single guard interrupting their meeting. “Apologies, Lord Robert. I’ve brought the staff you requested.”

“Aye,” Rab hopped down from his seat. “Thank you.”

Rowan glanced his way and froze. “Is that _Mordegon’s?”_

His grandfather chuckled, thrusting the staff into his hands. “It won’t bite.”

It was foolish, Rowan knew, to be so repulsed by a mere object, but he didn’t think he imagined the chill that laced through his fingers when he touched the darkened, grizzled wood. “Yeah, I guess, but why did you want it?”

“You can learn a lot about a sorcerer from their staff, Rowan,” Veronica put in, leaning forward to get a better look. He placed it on the table so she could reach, eager to pass it off.

Jade seemed to share his apprehension, as she looked on with a small frown. “Can you truly?”

“She’s got the right of it,” Rab explained, “I’d sleep better at night knowing whose hands it's in, is all. Alright boys and girls, clear off. Rest up for tomorrow.”

Serena was the first out the door, Hendrik and Jade close behind. Veronica trailed after his grandfather, chatting amiably about what Rowan considered to be a rather morbid magical item. He rose from his chair and saw Erik about to slip out into the hall.

“Wait,” Rowan begged, reaching out and catching his sleeve. “Wait a second.”

Erik arched one eyebrow, and Rowan felt a swarm in his stomach - more hornets than butterflies.

“I - are we alright? I’m sorry, about earlier,” he started, tripping over his words.

Erik’s eyes didn’t quite meet his before one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

But Rowan _knew_ him, recognized real smiles from those he forced, an advantage he felt only a little shame in using. “Honestly?” he dropped his voice lower. “I didn’t mean what I said, I just...needed a minute.”

He caught the flicker of conflict across Erik’s expression, and Rowan’s eyes fell to the way the other chewed on his lower lip. “Are you alright, now?” Erik’s voice was still guarded, but it was _something,_ and Rowan would take what he could get.

“I’d like to get some sleep, but yeah,” he tried to joke, but it fell flat when Erik didn’t smile.

“Look, I get that maybe you don’t think you can tell me things because I haven’t told you much about me, but I…” he looked down at his hands, clearly frustrated as he tried to choose his words, “I didn’t like what I saw out there today. I’ve never seen you like that Rowan, and for something to _bother_ you that much...you can tell me, whatever it is.” Erik finished, the tips of his ears reddening. He still wouldn’t make eye contact.

A weight settled in Rowan’s stomach. “It’s not like that, okay?” he said softly, “I just...it’s not worth worrying about.”

It was the wrong thing to say, he realized, as soon as the words left his mouth. Erik, he’d learned, was not a liar by nature but had to be by trade. He knew well enough when he was being lied to, and he _remembered._

Erik’s shoulders sank before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever you say,” he shrugged, a clear dismissal, but the wall Rowan had climbed enough to see over had shot back up. “Listen, we should sleep, like you said. I’m beat.”

“Yeah,” Rowan murmured, “yeah. Goodnight.”

He stayed still while Erik turned to go, and wondered how many more times he’d have to watch him walk away.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The bridge never ended. Rowan could see only so far in each direction until white fog obscured whatever might lay beyond.

He sat at the edge, legs dangling into nothingness, with a fishing rod in his hands.

“How’s the fishing?” Rowan jumped when Erik’s voice spoke to his left. He turned and saw him, rod and reel in hand, his own line descending into the fog. His voice was…wrong. Serene. “Caught anything?”

Rowan blinked before he felt a _tug,_ a realization, and let his eyes fall closed. “Please choose someone else,” he mumbled, “I don’t want to see him, if he’s not really here.”

“Apologies,” the voice changed, feminine and familiar. “Though I have little control as to whom you see first.”

He opened his eyes to see the Seer, as she’d looked the first time he met her. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“Why else? You asked for my help, whether you realized or not.” She hummed. “My, you have a great many questions, I see.”

“Do you have answers?” Rowan asked, eager.

The Seer smiled. “Something we all wonder, I imagine. I cannot say,” she tilted her head to one side. “I can, perhaps, clear some of this fog for you. But as for the rest...you will simply have to be patient.” She looked down her line. “Some we might catch instantly, others...we must wait for them to come to us.”

“As in fishing, so in life,” Rowan echoed, mildly impatient. “Yes, I remember. What can you tell me about the Lantern?”

Something like sadness flickered across her face, so quickly he must have imagined it. “Calasmos,” she said. “It’s a name you’ve heard before, I take it.”

“Yeah, the first time the lantern fell, when - wait,” Rowan whirled around to face her. “You...you know. You know about what happened...before? Before Time’s Sphere?”

“Time is a curious thing,” she said, not really an answer. “The echoes of what has come to pass - or what hasn’t - are everywhere, if one knows to listen.”

Rowan frowned. “Right. I, well. So the Time Spirit released Calasmos from the Lantern? How do I fight him? How do I-”

The Seer held up a hand, halting his words. “To fight him would take much - the world may not have time before his darkness spreads. He has been imprisoned once, and can be so again.”

“But he escaped,” Rowan pointed out, “could he not do _that_ again?”

“Time’s Sphere can only be shattered by one hand, and you have done so already. It cannot be undone, and thus, cannot be repeated.”

“So we seal him away again,” Rowan mused, “do you know how?”

“You are heading in the right direction, Luminary, and the answer will come in time.” The Seer looked down the bridge, as the fog swirled. “I’m curious, whether or not I am helping in your clarity or simply spawning more uncertainty.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Rowan said, before straightening up. “What about the dreams? Jasper remembered, but Veronica, Serena, and Erik didn’t - and _Erik._ He remembered everything that happened before, he remembered -”

_Me,_ Rowan thought, with a splinter in his heart. _He remembered loving me._

She smiled suddenly, her expression almost sly. “An intriguing prospect, certainly. I imagine that, when you broke the Sphere, you brought something unexpected back with you. When I sent Erik to you so long ago, there were many different routes to be chosen. I must say, I believe this one is preferable, over others.”

Rowan’s brow furrowed. “This is better? _Calasmos_ is better?”

“Than Mordegon claiming the World Tree?” the Seer asked, “I would say so. Do not despair, child - things are not as bleak as they might seem.”

Rowan looked up at the white sky above. “When you say you sent him to me...what does that mean? Did you plan for all of this to happen, for me to turn back time? For us to - for me just to lose him?” his voice broke, and anger slowly kindled inside. “I mean, I don’t think I can’t tell him, and he hates that I’m lying. But this...are we just puppets, then? Do we have no say at all?”

The Seer considered him. “Some would say you have not lost him, while he still lives. And you are correct, in the secrets you keep. The truth is safer that way, for the time being.” She shook her head. “It’s true that I sent him to you with a purpose in mind, but you are quite wrong about the rest. I set him on his path, yes. But fate and choice are not the same. He chose to stay, just as you chose to keep him, just as you chose to tie your heart to another. Those choices are what ensured the events after. I aligned the dominoes, but I have no control over which direction they fall. You’ll learn this, soon enough,” she said, “for are you not a Seer in your own right?”

“What? No-”

“Do you not hold knowledge of time past, and of a time that never came to be? Do you not wade in the midst of dreams, walk through memories that are not yours to explore? You see a great deal more than you should, and what is that, if not a Seer? I imagine you’ll even soon see what paths may come, foresee twists that lay ahead. But I will leave you with this warning, Luminary. You have saved a great many lives, but death does not take well to being cheated. I fear it will only be a matter of time before a price must be paid, and I urge you to be prepared to face the cost.”

“What cost?” Rowan demanded. The fog wafted closer, shadows closing in, shifting from white to gray. “Who are you, truly? Erik told me you came to him as a man, but you appear differently to everyone…”

The Seer rose to her feet, calm. “Who I am is a nearly forgotten memory, a mere fragment, best left where it lies. Should you look in dark places, darkness is all you will find. Do remember that.”

“Wait-” she leaned in close, and with a flick to the center of his forehead, the Seer faded away.


	8. 7: Winter Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, kids. I hope you guys are enjoying holidays/holiday prep, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. This memory at the beginning has been one of my favorites to write so far.

* * *

 

_Chapter 7: Winter Song_

 

_This is my winter song to you_

_The storm is coming soon, it rolls in from the sea._

_My voice a beacon in the night_

_My words will be your light, to carry you to me._

_Is love alive?_

_They say that things just cannot grow_

_Beneath the winter snow, or so I have been told._

_They say we’re buried far, just like a distant star,_

_I simply cannot hold._

_Is love alive?_

* * *

After

 

The rain fit, Erik thought.

He sat at the base of Arboria’s stairs with his head in his hands, where he knew he’d likely be left alone. His fist throbbed, but he barely noticed the ache, not when something else felt far worse.

He didn’t understand how Veronica could just be _gone._

_Dead._

Well, that wasn’t quite right. He _understood,_ certainly. He’d watched life fade from more than one pair of eyes. Perhaps what he found hardest to grasp was the simple fact that she’d made a promise, and he’d begun to believe her.

Water dripped from his hair and ran down the inside of his tunic, but he welcomed the chill. For a moment, he wondered if maybe _not_ having his memories back might be kinder.

He tilted his head back to face the sky and closed his eyes against the rain. “You weren’t supposed to go anywhere,” he accused, “what happened to sticking around?”

He felt like a fool, for being surprised yet again when he lost someone. That was the growing trend, leaving instead of staying, losing rather than keeping.

Erik felt the urge rise back up, to lash out, to hit another tree. He wanted to scream, break something, _anything_ to get the hurt out, to bleed grief from his veins until he didn’t have to feel it anymore.

“Can I sit?”

Erik opened his eyes and looked up. Rowan stood one step above him, shoulders hunched forward and his hair slicked to his cheeks, waiting.

As if Erik would ever be able to tell him to _go_.

He shrugged and looked away as Rowan settled down at his side. He felt a tap on the top of his hand. “Can I look at this?” Rowan asked, his voice low.

Wordlessly, Erik shifted and offered his hand. His eyes were drawn to the touch as Rowan tucked his fingers underneath his glove and carefully peeled fabric away from ruined skin.

“You did some damage,” he said, wincing slightly when he took in busted and bloody knuckles. “Maybe next time don’t hit something wooden.”

Erik stared as Rowan turned his hand over between both of his. “You should try it,” he found himself saying, the suggestion coming out rougher than he’d like. “It’s better than nothing, better than holding it in. I don’t know how you’re so... _okay.”_ The words sounded angry. Maybe he was.

“I’m not,” Rowan murmured. Absently, he traced his thumb over the inside of Erik’s wrist, and he felt a shiver slide down his spine. “Trust me, I’m not. Veronica-”

“Don’t. I don’t...I don’t want to talk about her.” _Not yet, maybe not ever._

He’d spent far too many years hiding his wounds where no one could see.

Rowan looked so sad, so tired. “Alright,” he said, running his thumb up Erik’s palm and flipping it slowly, dragging his fingers across the cuts. Instead of pain, he felt the warm tingle of healing magic as it knitted his skin back together.

Erik held his breath and watched with thinly veiled fascination, tracked the path of Rowan’s skin over his own with greedy eyes. Heat to war with the cold. “You’ve been avoiding me,” Erik accused, without having made the choice to do so. “Since Sniflheim, before, even.”

Rowan sighed, and Erik felt the puff of air. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

The admission hurt, more than he’d expected. He shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I get it. People come and people go. That’s just the way the world works, I guess.”

Rowan’s fingers tightened around his. “No, not always. That’s not why...look, I didn’t handle your memory loss very well. I think that’s obvious,” he started, his eyes on their hands. He hadn’t let go, something Erik was very aware of. He absolutely didn’t want him to.

“And even after your memories came back, I guess I felt like...I still didn’t really have you _back,”_ Rowan’s nose wrinkled, color rising to his cheeks. “I was scared you might stay there with your sister, since it was home.”

“It wasn’t,” Erik rushed to say, “it was never home to me.”

Rowan looked up and finally met his eyes. “No?”

Erik took a deep breath and held his gaze. “I’ve always thought of home as more of a person, not a place. For most of my life, it was Mia. And after I just...didn’t have one. Until, well. You, I guess,” he finished, his voice gruff. He looked away, found his own reflection in a puddle on the ground. “You’ve always got me, Rowan. Don’t worry about that.”

Rowan made a small, strangled sound, and Erik looked back up in time to catch him press his free hand to his forehead, looking very much as though he were trying not to cry.

“Hey,” Erik started, alarmed. He tugged on their clasped hands, but Rowan shook his head sharply.

“I feel so _guilty,”_ he breathed the word out, unsteady as a dam broke loose, and cast burning eyes up towards the sky. “I worried about all of you, you know, after. But I worried about you the most,” a whispered confession, one that nearly stopped Erik’s heart. “I worried about you most. And even after we found you, I never...I thought the worst was over. I never thought to worry over her, because she seemed so...indestructible. But she’s been gone this whole time, and I -” his voice broke and he looked away, pulling his hand free and angrily scrubbing a tear from his cheek. “She died because of me,” he choked, “and I can’t stand it. I’m not _worth_ that.”

Erik didn’t even pause to think before he reached out, gripping the back of Rowan’s neck in one hand and a fistful of his wet tunic in the other and hauling him in close. “Don’t do that,” he said, his own voice shaking, “don’t-hey, it’s not your fault. If anything, it’s hers.”

That startled a chuckle - or maybe only a sob - out of him. He could feel it, where Rowan’s face pressed into his neck.

“She just had to be the one to throw her life away for ours,” he continued, turning his cheek against Rowan’s shoulder to wipe away his own tears. “Selfish, really, if you think about it-” he forced the words out, through the thickness in his throat. “We’re all way too codependent, anyone of us would have done the same.”

“No, she was braver than the rest of us.” He felt Rowan’s shoulders shake. “She’d yell at us, if she saw us crying,” he mumbled, “tell us to pull ourselves together.”

“ ‘M not crying,” Erik argued, even as his breath hitched. Rowan huffed and held on tighter, and Erik tucked his nose into Rowan’s collarbone. He smelled like salt and rain, and Erik couldn’t remember the last time anyone held him like that, like they never planned on letting go.

“I’m going to miss her,” Erik sighed, letting his eyes fall closed. “I’m mad as hell about it, but damn, I miss her.”

He felt Rowan’s head bob up and down next to his own. “Sorry,” he whispered, his breath warm on chilled skin. “You didn’t want to talk about it.”

Erik slid his hand up Rowan’s back and down again, absent. “I guess I won’t hold it against you.” After a moment more he sat back; not far, just enough to look.

Rowan met his eyes, and Erik caught the flicker of uncertainty there. He looked so _broken_ , raw, just the way Erik felt down to his bones. He couldn’t tell whether tears or raindrops clung to his eyelashes, but they matched the storm of his eyes and Erik realized he’d absolutely been telling the truth before.

Sometime ago, likely not long after the moment he’d met him, Rowan had become his home.

Their jagged edges fit, he thought. They held each other together until shards of glass fused back into something resembling a whole.

Erik’s fingers tensed on the back of Rowan’s neck, and he watched as Rowan’s eyes dropped to his mouth, before hastily coming back up to his, faint color rising to his cheeks.

He didn’t feel cold anymore. His breath stuttered in his chest.

He could press in, just a little, nudge Rowan a bit closer and -

If he were to lean in and kiss him, he felt certain Rowan would _let_ him.

“There you are.”

Jade’s voice broke the spell. Erik leaned back, reluctantly letting his hand fall away from him as Rowan turned to look at the girl who waited several steps above them.

She’d either not noticed what she very nearly interrupted, or had the good sense not to mention it. Erik was betting on the latter.

“We’re about to get started,” she said, soft and subdued. “Come on.”

A cold flood. The _memorial_.

For a split second, he’d all but forgotten. For just a moment, he’d wanted to feel anything else.

Erik acknowledged a begrudging appreciation for Jade’s timing, as Rowan cast one last look his way before rising to his feet. He reached down and held out a hand.

Time had a way of stealing the things he loved. He lifted his hand and placed it in Rowan’s, let the other pull him up from the ground and decided he’d only have to hold more tightly to the things he meant to keep.

* * *

* * *

 

 

Rowan’s boots hit the wooden dock and his eyes fell on the city gates. Despite it being the fourth time he’d visited, Sniflheim had certainly not risen in his estimation.

He turned back to the ship, offering a hand for Serena to take as she climbed down.

“It certainly looks better without all the ice,” she commented. Behind her, Veronica snorted.

“ _Less_ ice, you mean,” the latter said, “there’s definitely still too much ice.”

Jade placed a hand in the one Hendrik offered and leapt down with grace. “Does it not snow in Arboria?”

“Not nearly as much as you might think,” Veronica started down the dock, the others following in her wake. Their words were soon lost to the wind.

Rowan looked back up, to where Erik still had yet to leave the ship. He stared out beyond the harbor, something distinctly _lost_ in his eyes.

 _We’ll go get her,_ Rowan wanted to say. He kept his mouth firmly shut.

“Let’s just get to the library,” Erik said, his hand coming down on Rowan’s shoulder for support as he left the ship and found his footing. He was all ragged edges and sharp eyes, and took his touch away far too soon. “Then we can get out of here.”

Rowan’s breath puffed out in a cloud. “As soon as we can,” he promised, and something like gratitude flickered in Erik’s expression.

He hesitated, looking as though he might say something, before thinking better of it. Instead, Erik shoved his hands into his pockets and made to follow their companions, shoulders hunched against the wind.

 _Some would say you have not lost him, while he still lives._ Rowan remembered the Seer’s words. He could repeat the mantra aloud until he was blue in the face, write it on the walls or scream it to the wind, for all the good it would do him, but he couldn’t quite make himself _believe_ it.

He walked a couple of steps behind Erik, towards the tunnel. It was a long, freezing hike to the Royal Library, and he knew enough to be well aware it wouldn’t pass in the manner he was used to.

 

“Why are you and Erik fighting?”

Rowan jumped, nearly knocking over the stack of books on the desk before him. “What?” he hissed, casting a quick glance around the room before watching Veronica clamber up onto a stool next to him. “We’re not.”

 _Not entirely true,_ he thought, rueful as he let his gaze fall to the tight line of Erik’s shoulders. He sat in the opposite corner, quietly looking over an old star chart.

“Serena told me about what happened after the Lantern fell,” Veronica said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I didn’t realize Serena liked to gossip,” Rowan grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up. “What did she tell you, exactly?”

“She didn’t say much, really, but the gist I got was that you had some sort of panic attack and snapped at Erik.” She shook her head. “That’s not like you. You know he’s _sensitive.”_

Rowan pressed his lips together and tried to focus on the book in front of him. His attempt at silence lasted less than a minute. “Listen, I didn’t _mean_ to - why are you asking me about it, anyway?”

“When Mommy and Daddy fight, the kids notice,” Veronica chastised. Rowan was certain his face was fully flushed.

“That’s not...we’re supposed to be focusing on Calasmos,” he muttered.

“So studious,” Veronica said. “I’m certain Rab’s already found something, don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Jade said, letting her hand fall onto Rowan’s shoulder when she came to stand by them. “He’s been pouring over it for nearly an hour now. How did you know to look for that name, Calasmos? I’ve never heard it before,” she asked, her tone more curious than anything.

“I’ve been wondering, myself,” Veronica put in.

“A book,” Rowan told them, pretending deep interest in the passage he was on. “I read about it, once.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed.

“Rab was asking for you, Veronica,” Jade added, “thought you might be able to help him with the translation.”

“Right,” she said, with one last suspicious glare for him as she hopped down from her perch. “You keep staring at that book, Rowan. Maybe it’ll tell you something.”

Jade took the vacated stool. “Is everything alright?”

Rowan sighed, closing the book in front of him. “Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

“Mostly,” Rowan told her, “I’m fine.”

Maybe if he repeated it often enough, it would prove to be true.

Jade gave him a once over. “If you’re sure,” she said, sounding anything but convinced, “let’s go see what your grandfather’s found. Serena’s already with him, and I believe Sylvando and Hendrik are patrolling the hall.” She walked towards the door, tugging on Erik’s sleeve as she passed. “Come on, boys.”

Rowan tried to catch his eye as they obediently fell into line behind her and trudged into another nook. They found Veronica up on top of a desk, her nose pressed into ancient pages, eyes squinting as she struggled to read small text.

“Maybe you should get a little closer,” Erik suggested, his voice dry. Rowan couldn’t hide his small smirk.

“Do you truly think you’re clever?” Veronica bit back without turning around. “Ha! There it is.”

Rab and Serena both shifted closer, looking where she pointed. Veronica continued, “It’s a little hard to read, but I’m sure it’s saying how Erdwin, Serenica, and Morcant sealed Calasmos away inside the star that eventually became known as Erdwin’s Lantern. The spell is in here, too, but it’s harder to make out, in this light at least. It’s in an older language, I’d need to translate it-”

“Great,” Erik said, “let’s take it for the road.”

Serena looked horrified. “But...you can’t steal from a _library.”_

He made a show of looking around, over his shoulders and out the door. “I think actually you _can,”_ Erik started, “considering there’s never anyone else here.”

“Aye, lassie. We’ll bring it back,” Rab assured her. “But we’d best get a move on, if we intend to make it back before dark.”

 

The cabin in the Snaerfelt was too small for the eight of them, but it had walls and a hearth, and was certainly a step above freezing to death.

Though maybe it wasn’t preferable to some, Rowan thought, as he noticed Hendrik through the window, a silent statue in the snow.

He pushed his way out the door, shoulders jumping up to his ears at the blast of cold, and trekked over to the knight.

“It’s warmer inside,” he suggested, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tunic.

Hendrik shot him a distinctly unimpressed look before scanning the tundra that lay before them. “I was simply checking our stationing. I wonder if staying in the library would not have been the better choice.”

“That library is filled with dragons,” Rowan frowned.

Hendrik conceded his point with a nod, turning back towards the cabin. He stayed silent for a moment before saying, “I do not care for this place, is all.”

“You fit right in, then,” he said, offering a tentative smile.  

Hendrik sat down on the porch steps. After a slight hesitation, Rowan joined him. The knight reached up and closed a fist around the pendant that hung from his neck.

“The last time I was here, I learned that the man I considered my closest friend wishes I were dead.”

Rowan turned to look at him, but Hendrik’s gaze was distant. “Jasper freed the ice witch and asked that she kill me,” he continued, “but I...I do not understand what’s happened to him. He is no longer the man I knew.”

“Mordegon got to him a long time ago,” Rowan said quietly. Hendrik’s eyes snapped to his.

“Is that what he told you?” He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I imagine he said a great deal, to manage to twist the Luminary to his side.”

“I’m not on his _side,”_ Rowan protested, “I just don’t think it’s that simple anymore - good, bad. We’ve all got a bit of both.”

He was aware of Hendrik watching him, in the low glow of the fire through the window.

“Why did you save his life?” he finally asked.

Rowan could see it so easily. Hendrik down on his knee, Jasper dying before him, the two speaking so ruefully of light and who guided who, where both had once been content to follow. His answer, of all things, _was_ simple.

He knew what it was, after all, to watch a friend die. He knew what it was to _lose,_ and to ache in the aftermath.

“You,” Rowan said, picking at the lacing on his boot. “I knew you wouldn’t, but that maybe you wanted to.”

Hendrik watched him, his gaze shrewd. “And how would you know such a thing?”

Rowan let out a sigh, a white burst of air hanging in the dark. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” Hendrik mused. “You’re not wrong.”

Silence fell between them. Rowan pushed his boot into the snow, and chose his next words with care. “He thinks he’s going to be executed.”

Hendrik grimaced. “He likely will.”

“Then maybe you should speak for him,” Rowan suggested, “and be the one to save him this time.”

“What makes you believe he deserves a second chance?” Hendrik sighed. “Or forgiveness, for that matter? That if he’s given one or the other, he could be trusted with it?”

“Maybe the question shouldn’t be whether or not he deserves it,” Rowan said. “Maybe you should decide if you could forgive yourself if you let him die. If you didn’t try to save him at all, could you be okay with that?” Rowan stood up. “Death is really the only thing that’s permanent. Forgiveness, second chances…” he shrugged. “I guess all that can come in time. I’d like to think so.”

_Here’s to hoping._

Hendrik’s eyebrows rose. “It would seem you’re rather wise, Luminary,” he grumbled, reluctant.

The corners of Rowan’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Not nearly wise enough, believe me.” He held out a hand, to help pull the knight to his feet. “And maybe you could just call me Rowan.”

* * *

* * *

 

Rowan opened his eyes to a dark wood.

His surroundings might have been familiar, were it not for the shadows lurking at the edges, too heavy and potent to be anything natural.

He started walking deeper into frost-laden trees. Still, he felt a stubborn prickle of recognition, and with it, unease. With every step, he became increasingly aware that maybe he _shouldn’t_ be there.

_Whose dream am I in?_

He stumbled now and then, his feet catching snow drifts and pitching him forward. But his hands didn’t grow numb, the damp cold never managed to penetrate through cloth to skin, so he kept going.

The stillness, the silence, unnerved him. It’d never taken him so long to find the dreamer before.

Rowan stepped into a clearing, trees opening wide while darkness drifted in closer still, and the weight of a memory just out of reach settled over him again.

_Where-_

He heard the crack of an icy branch underfoot, but a quick glance down told him he had not been the one to step on it. A deep, rumbling roar sounded somewhere to his left.

“Away, foul beasts!”

A voice at last, and one he recognized.

Hendrik held his sword high, battling shadows. Rowan struggled to make out their shape, but they stayed formless, driving the knight back, closer and closer to a tree.

Rowan reached back, his fingers seeking his sword, but they only met air.

“Wait-” he protested. He took a step, only to fall forward, the snow freezing over and locking him in place. “Hendrik!”

He didn’t seem to hear. The shadowed monsters had him cornered.

Rowan could see it in his face, the moment he realized he’d die.

“No, don’t-” Rowan protested, lurching forward, desperate to free himself.

Hendrik held out his sword, cutting into nothing before the shadows swarmed him.

Helpless, Rowan watched the knight go down, and when he did not rise again, a scream ripped from his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there you have it. This chapter and the one before were a little plot set-up heavy, I know, I do hope it wasn't too much. The next chapter will see things start to move again. Let me know what you think, whether here or at @anytaintedcreature on tumblr! I don't bite!  
> Until next time, my fair friends.


	9. 8: The Crow & the Butterfly

* * *

 

_Chapter 8: The Crow & the Butterfly  _

 

_I never thought you’d slip away,_

_I guess I was just a little too late._

_Your words still serenade me,_

_And your lullabies, they won’t let me sleep_

_I’ve never heard such a haunting melody_

_Oh, it’s killing me_

_You know I can barely breathe_

* * *

_After_  


The view from Luminary’s Landing was likely beautiful, once.

It was still a sight to behold, but Erik could imagine the way it might have looked without fires burning and smoke on the skyline. He could picture Yggdrasil where it once stood, but when he blinked he saw the pale reflections left in the aftermath, and it left an ashy taste in his mouth.

They were waiting on Rowan and Serena. Benedictus had yet another magical dream and wished to share what he’d learned.

For someone who could see the future, he certainly didn’t seem to see anything useful. After all, he was the one who sent them up to Yggdrasil in the first place, and if he hadn’t foreseen _that_ , hadn’t divined what came after, what were his dreams actually worth?

Erik grimaced. He’d never really trusted priests and the like, anyway.

Jade walked over to where he stood, closest to the cliff face. “I’d like to say something to you, if you don’t mind.”

Erik heaved a sigh. “That’s never a good start.”

“I’ll make it quick,” her nose wrinkled when she pulled a distinctly odd expression, and his apprehension grew. “I realize I may be asserting myself here, but after yesterday, I feel I should make certain...well, I’d like you to promise me you’ll do your best not to hurt Rowan.”

The corners of his mouth turned down in a scowl. “I wouldn’t,” he protested, stung with indignation.

“I know that, or at least, I’d hoped,” Jade said, “I just...I need to look out for him, okay? And I know you look out for him too, but you didn’t see how he was when you were lost, and even after, when you didn’t remember him. He’d do anything for you,” Jade chose her words with care, “and I believe that’s something you need to be aware of.”

He felt the itch to run, a nettle between his shoulder blades - away from Jade, down the hill, far from scrutiny. It was easier before, when his feelings were his alone and tucked away from prying eyes. “Well, it’s been noted. Thanks for the interest, really.”

“There’s no need to be prickly about it. You know I care for you, too. Rowan’s just...softer,” Jade’s voice lowered, something sad in her eyes as her gaze flicked beyond him.

Erik turned his head just enough to see Serena appear over the rise. Rowan was right behind her, fully outfitted in his shining armor.

He felt his anger ebb away, lost to the tides. They all had bruises they’d rather keep hidden, but grief had a way of drawing what hurt out of shadowed spaces and into the light, bared for the world to see.

“I’d say he might be sturdier than you think,” Erik said, gentling his tone, “but you don’t have to worry about him where I’m concerned, alright?” He felt his cheeks heat up and looked out over the vista. “I’d do anything for him, too.”

Jade offered him a tiny, grateful smile. “I thought so.”

They all needed reassurance, sometimes.

The lilting notes from a flute drew his attention, and Erik watched as Serena lowered it from her mouth with a perplexed frown. “I think I must be doing it wrong…”

Rowan stepped forward, taking the flute in hand. When his mark started to glow and the flute expanded upwards, Erik wondered - with no small amount of bemusement - what fanciful happening he was to witness next.

He’d grown used to the magic, over time.

But when the valley shook and the clouds parted for an enormous flying _whale_ he very nearly bit his tongue. Life with the Luminary always had a way of surprising him.

The sun crested the rise, shrouding the giant mystical beast and the boy meant to ride it in a halo of light, Erik suddenly felt small, uncertain.

Rowan was always meant for something, a cause greater than all of them, and Erik couldn’t help but wonder if he was always meant only to follow, to be several steps behind, with Rowan forever just barely out of his reach.

When the whale - _Cetacea_ , he supposed, thoroughly bewildered - made another pass overhead, calling a song to the clouds, he pushed insecurity away and held his eyes open despite the brightness, letting out a low breath.

_Veronica would have loved to see this._

* * *

* * *

 

His friends were less than pleased with him that morning, Rowan knew, after he’d woken them all far too early with his thrashing as he pulled himself from the throes of a nightmare. They had frowned too at his urgent requests to make a detour as they made to leave Sniflheim’s harbor. Erik, in particular, had protested, determined and loud, when Rowan asked to turn the ship towards the Viking passage, but Sylvando obliged the latter and Rowan had to simply watch as Erik’s knuckles turned white on the railing, the misery in his expression growing deeper with every moment they sailed closer.

He wanted to tell him he meant to help rather than punish, but Rowan couldn’t begin to find a way to explain the knowledge he wasn’t supposed to have, so he kept silent vigil with him instead.

When they made land and began walking away from the sea, Rowan said only that he was looking for something, and left it at that.

His dream had him on edge. He stumbled over his own feet more than once for watching his friends more than his path, his gaze lingering on Hendrik the most.

When the knight caught him looking and shot back a suspicious frown, Rowan dropped his eyes to the snow.

They walked mostly in silence. The trees began to grow thicker, closer together, and when less and less light reached them through the foliage, Rowan paused.

“Wait,” he said, eyes flicking to every shadow, “wait.”

Veronica, who’d been walking behind him with her nose in her book, crashed into the back of his legs with a sound of disdain. “Rowan!”

He didn’t move. His heartbeat picked up speed, an angry pound. “Maybe we should go back.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan saw Erik perk up. “Great plan. Let’s go.”

“What’s wrong?” Jade asked, her mouth turning down into a frown. “You said we should go this way.”

“Yes,” Hendrik came to stand before them. “It was my understanding that we sought something of importance.”

He could feel Erik’s stare, a burn on the back of his neck. Rowan’s mouth went dry. “I - yes, I did say that.”

“Then let’s get a move on, aye? The cold’s not good for auld bones -”

It was a subtle sound, but Rowan heard it as well as any crash of thunder - the mere snapping of a twig.

_Too late._

Fear was electric, a white-hot scorch to his veins, icy in the aftermath. When he heard the roar, saw the trees tremble, he went numb. Oh, he _believed_ , but he didn’t understand. What was it the Seer had said?

_I imagine you’ll even soon see what paths may come._

“We need a barrier,” Rowan found himself whispering, before giving his head a vicious shake. “Veronica, a _barrier_ ,” he said again, firmer this time, as he reached to pull the sword from his back.

Erik already had his daggers in hand, eyes narrowed as he scanned the woods. “What’s-”

A barrage of fire and light accompanied the roar that came next. Rowan felt the intensity, but never the impact - Veronica stood in front of them, hands lifted high, grimacing with the effort of keeping her guard up under strain.

“A labradrake,” Erik explained, eyes wide as he took in the enormous beast before them. “I heard of them living in the Snaerfelt, but they’ve never been _here_ before.”

A slip, one no one but Rowan noticed.

“Doesn’t matter,” Veronica grunted, “just kill it!”

“It’s not alone,” Jade’s expression was grim. “There’s three, at least.”

Hendrik stepped forward, holding his great sword out before him. “Away, foul beasts!”

_No._

But the call to battle was a song in his blood, one of the few Rowan knew well. When Erik darted forward, a veritable blur on an icy wind, Rowan followed, unable to remain still while the world moved around him.

He felt the touch of Serena’s defensive magic bolster him, smelled the acrid burn in the air from Veronica’s fireballs. He slashed out at one of the dragons and sent a bolt of lightning at another.

Sylvando danced past, ever-present smile in place and whip in hand. Rowan felt the warm tingle of an _insulate_ the moment before a blast of breath caught him from behind.

He blinked, tense but unscathed, and shot his grandfather a grateful look. Rab grinned.

Rowan hurled himself back into the fight, sinking his sword into a thick, scaly leg. They fought well together, one always looking out for another, but while their usual scraps had all the finely tuned organization of an orchestra, this was different.

This battle was an ambush, and it was chaos. But they were winning, Rowan thought, until the moment they weren’t.

Veronica took the brunt of the heavy whip of a tail and went down, and Serena rushed to her aid at once.

The barrier around the rest of them shattered.

Rowan spun around, his eyes finding the sisters in the snow. _Get up_ , he thought, his heart leaping to his throat. _You have to get up._

He couldn’t bear to lose her again.

His fist loosened, his sword slipping from his grasp. He heard an enraged roar, closer than he’d expected, and could only brace himself for a blow.

A hand closed around his arm, yanking him down and away, behind the bare shelter of a tree trunk.

“She’s moving,” Erik muttered, his eyes on the twins, breathing hard. He had snow in his hair and his knuckles were white, where his fingers wrapped around Rowan’s wrist. There was a gash across his cheek, seeping blood. “She’ll be okay. Serena’s got her.”

Rowan was panting as he followed his gaze, confirming for himself before absently touching a hand to the cut on Erik’s face. Erik went still, his eyes flicking to Rowan’s as he let healing magic flow from his fingers, knitting the skin over his cheekbone back together. His hand lingered, and Erik dropped his gaze to their feet.

The ground shook, startling Rowan back to the present. He looked back out to the battlefield. One labradrake fell, succumbing to sustained wounds, but two still stood, advancing on the lone figure who had never fought with them before, who hadn’t known to take cover when Veronica fell.

Hendrik held his ground, sword in his hands, but his expression was grim, the very face of a man who knew well when he was outmatched.

Rowan stood up, but he was too far away, and the Sword of Light lay on the ground where he’d dropped it. Erik’s hand tightened around his. “Get down,” he hissed.

“They’ll kill him,” Rowan protested, his gaze bouncing between Erik, his abandoned weapon, and the cornered knight.

“They’ll kill _you_ ,” he shot back, his words heated. There was something akin to panic in Erik’s eyes.

Hendrik swung his sword, driving one beast back while the other drew in close, and Rowan could see him brace himself for the hit, ready for the fall. “No!”

Someone else got him first.

Lightning fast, Jade slammed into Hendrik, taking him down and rolling them both. The Labradrake’s death blow met nothing but snow.

With his back on the ground and Jade crouched over him, Hendrik looked absolutely stunned. A shimmering glow floated over them, a barrier back in place, and Rowan could see Rab casting the spell, concentration etched deep into the lines of his face.

He felt a sear of heat and looked down to see his Luminary mark begin to glow.

_Excellent timing._

Erik was looking too, a peculiar expression on his face. His fingers slid away from Rowan’s skin and he picked up his knives instead. “Let’s go.”

Rowan stepped forward, eyes narrowing as the pair of dragons turned to face them, their previous quarry gone. Magic hummed under his skin, pulsing in time with the rapid beat of his heart. He lifted his hand high and closed his eyes, and let lightning answer his call.

 

When the smoke cleared, the battle was over as quickly as it’d begun.

“If only you could do that every time something nasty jumped out at us,” Erik mused, slowly returning his blades back to their sheaths.

Rowan’s hands started to shake as the heat of the fight died away, his energy fading with the light of his mark. “Wouldn’t that be nice,” he agreed, the words dull. A quick survey showed him Serena helping Veronica to her feet, Rab and Sylvando at their sides. Jade rose to her feet, brushing snow from her clothes.

Hendrik was staring at her with a look of awe Rowan had seen before. Jade glanced down at the knight and offered a hand.

“Princess, I -” he stammered. Jade wiggled her fingers.

“I’ve told you before,” she said, her lips turning up in a small smile. “You can just call me Jade.”

After a slight hesitation, he placed his hand in hers. “If you insist,” he said, so quietly Rowan could barely hear, as the words were meant only for her. “Thank you, Jade, for saving my life.” His lips shaped her name like a prayer.

She was grinning as she helped pull him to his feet. “Now, was that so difficult?”

Rowan turned away with a tired smile of his own. Erik was staring beyond them, into the woods. Rowan knew that only a mile or so and a closed door were all that stood between Erik and everything he kept locked deep inside, where no light reached and guilt decayed, eating him away.

Rab was still out of breath. “Crivens,” he cursed, exasperated, “what in the hell did we come out here for?”

“It’s not far now,” Rowan reclaimed his sword from the snow. “Why don’t Erik and I scout ahead, while the rest of you take a minute?”

Erik’s eyes snapped to his and narrowed.

Veronica dropped back down, wincing with the effort. “Fine with me.”

“Are you sure?” Jade asked. “There might be more of them.”

There weren’t. Rowan knew it with a certainty that should have unnerved him, were he not drained to the bone, but he had a mission uncompleted, someone who needed saving, so he’d continue on until he dropped.

Erik was still watching him and gave voice to his thoughts. “I don’t think they will be,” he said carefully, “they’re rare, from what I know, and don’t usually run in packs…we can’t be that unlucky, right?”

Hendrik snorted. “To stumble upon yet another dragon nest? Would you truly be surprised?”

“We won’t be long,” Rowan promised. He turned towards his destination without another word, and didn’t have to check to make sure Erik would follow.

Rowan knew he wouldn’t chance anyone stumbling upon his secrets alone.

The two walked in heavy silence for several minutes. Once, they would have walked close, shoulders brushing, swapping anecdotes - the change was jarring, and only another loss Rowan mourned.

Erik spoke up. “I guess I should know better than to ask how you knew.”

Rowan tensed. “Knew what?”

“That we’d be attacked, or even to come here at all,” Erik said, his eyes on the ground. He sounded like he’d chosen to take on a battle he’d already lost, and it made the knot in Rowan’s stomach twist ever tighter. “Take your pick. You seem to know a lot these days.”

Rowan came to a halt in the snow, waiting until Erik met his gaze. “Do you still trust me?” he asked, soft.

Erik’s brows knitted together, some of his defenses melting away. “Of course I trust _you_ , that’s not-” he broke off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Rowan desperately wanted to ask _what, what’s not,_ but he knew better than to push when he wasn’t being forthright himself.

“Then please know that if I could tell you these things, I would,” Rowan said.

_And the moment I feel like I won’t destroy time itself to tell you the truth, I will._ A silent vow, one he meant to keep.

“Sure,” Erik tried for lightness and fell just shy of the mark. He started walking again, folding more into himself with every step closer.

Rowan was certain Erik would be as rigid as stone himself by the time they made it there.

“Thanks for the save back there,” Rowan fell into step behind him.

Erik let out a huff of breath. “Don’t worry about it. You know I’ve got your back.”

Oh, that he knew, and all too well. It had been one of Rowan’s deepest fears for months, ever since a sunny day in Gondolia had turned abruptly to a nightmare. Erik was so readily willing to throw his own life away, and Rowan was terrified the time might well come when Erik _didn’t_ make it out with only scars.

When the wooden door came into view, Erik froze.

Rowan stood beside him, silent. Erik took a tentative step closer, then another, a haunting fragility to his every movement. He placed a hand upon scarred wood and let out a heavy breath, dropping his forehead to rest above his palm.

“Before we go in, I want you to promise me something. On the other side of this door is someone very important to me, and I-” he hesitated. “If we’re going in there, I-I wanted to ask before, but-”

Rowan took a step closer and put his hand on Erik’s shoulder, and his stammering ceased. “Hey,” he started, his voice low. “Anything, alright? No matter what, I’d...I’d do anything, for you.” He lifted one shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug, trying and likely failing to belie the intensity behind the promise. “I want you to know _that.”_

Erik stared at him for a long moment, searching, his breaths coming in short white puffs in the air between them. “You’ll do everything you can to save her?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Rowan hoped he _could_ , and that would have to be enough.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for a smile. “I’ll try.”

Erik pushed the door open, a resounding creak on rusted hinges.

Rowan had already seen the inside of the cave, more than once. He still felt the surge of _anger_ at the squalor they’d been forced to live in, the sense of injustice that rankled. They’d started out in similar places, only Rowan had been lucky. He’d been found by someone who cared, whereas Erik had been left to struggle alone.

Well, not entirely.

Erik sighed, like the weight of confession itself was too heavy to bear. “Meet my little sister. Mia.”

Rowan already knew the story, but he listened while Erik told it, all the same.

Mia stood before them, gold glistening in low light, with her hand outstretched in an obvious plea.

He hoped he could be the one to finally answer it.

Rowan took a step closer and hefted the Sword of Light from his back. He let his eyes fall closed. He thought Erik might be holding his breath.

_Anything_ , he’d sworn. And this one request was such a simple one, rooted only in love.

He had plenty of that to offer back.

The mark on his hand flickered, dim, and Rowan had to focus what little energy he had left to bring it to a glow. When he did, the sword in his hand warmed in response.

When he heard the clatter of the cursed necklace meeting the stone below, heard Erik’s shaky exhale, Rowan opened his eyes, feeling lightheaded.

“E-Erik?” Mia whispered, confusion in her eyes as her legs gave way, no longer supported by solid stone. Erik nearly tripped over himself in his haste to catch her.

It’d been so easy, Rowan thought, head spinning as he watched Erik cradle his sister in his arms, barely-there tremors wracking Erik’s shoulders. It was good to know he could still make him happy, when he tried.

 

Their companions had a great many questions when they returned with one more than they’d left with.

They’d headed back to Sniflheim, more than one person in need of healing and all in need of rest.

Erik settled his sister into the bed in the back of the city’s lone church, smoothing the blanket up to her chin.

“I had the strangest dream,” Mia started, her voice sleepy. “I was so lonely and so scared, but then someone started...speaking to me. At first, I thought it was you, but -” a cough wracked her frame, and Erik shushed her.

“Get some sleep.”

“No,” she protested, stubborn. “I want to tell you. I thought it was you, but it was someone else. He - he said horrible things. He told me you’d abandoned me, that you were never coming back, and I...I didn’t want to believe him, but he was always there, whispering. He promised to help me if I helped him.”

Erik frowned, his eyes dropping to his shoes. From the doorway, Hendrik caught Rowan’s eye, something hard and bitter in his expression.

“I think I would have,” she admitted, soft. “But then he was just gone, and you were there instead,” Mia’s voice began to trail off as her eyes fluttered and closed. “Just like I hoped you would be.”

Erik’s face twisted, a deep hurt that nothing but time would soothe.

Hendrik disappeared from the doorway.

“Stay with her tonight,” Rowan murmured, “I’ll go check on Veronica.”

“Wait,” Erik said, and Rowan halted in his tracks. “Thank you,” he whispered, his gaze flitting from Rowan and away again, almost shy, “for this.”

“Of course,” he answered, but Erik had already turned away.

  
Rowan found Hendrik outside the church, his eyes on the sky.

“The child spoke of Mordegon, did she not?” he asked, abrupt.

Rowan blinked. “I - yeah. Yeah, I believe so.”

Hendrik let out a long, weighted sigh. “Nothing but a demon’s whisper in her ear, preying on the doubt in her heart.” He pressed the palm of his hand to his brow. “I will speak for Jasper. We should return to Heliodor at once.”

Without another word the knight turned and strode away, shoulders hunched low. Rowan stared after him, his boots frozen in place on the cobblestones, too stunned to even begin to form a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. You guys are the cheese to my macaroni. I'm @anytaintedcreature on tumblr, and I've made a playlist for all the chapter title songs, if you like that kind of junk like me.


	10. 9: If I Had a Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear ones, and Merry Christmas Eve! Here's an angsty present.  
> (Also, there's no flashback in this one. There is a dream at the end.)

* * *

 

_Chapter 9: If I Had a Heart_

 

_If I had a heart I could love you,_

_If I had a voice I’d sing._

_After the night when I wake up,_

_We’ll see what tomorrow brings._

* * *

  


“Is this really what you do when you’re alone? Sit and _brood_?”

Veronica’s voice startled him. She’d caught him standing in front of the porthole, staring out to sea as they cut a path through the waves.

“What would you prefer?” Rowan asked, his voice lacking any real heat. He watched her walk into his cabin, the stolen library book under one arm, Mordegon’s staff under the other. “You look better,” he added, “no more seasickness?”

Veronica made a face. “I’m managing, with Serena’s help.” She dropped down onto the floor, opening the book in front of her. Rowan settled down across from her, casting an uneasy glance at the staff.

“Why do you have that?”

“Don’t be a baby,” she chided, “a stick is not going to hurt you. Now pay attention, because I’ve figured it out, I think. I’ve just about cracked Serenica’s spell for sealing Calasmos away, but we need to find a place of great power to do it.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows. “A place of great power?”

“That’s what I said, yes.” Veronica turned the page, her mouth tilting down into a frown. “Now this is where it gets interesting. The next passage talks about a mystical flying beast called Cetacea. It carried the first Luminary and his companions, and they were able to summon it using a flute.” She hesitated, looking up to meet his eyes. “I think _I_ have that flute. The High Priest gave it to me when we left Arboria. He said it belonged to Serenica, so what other flute could it be?”

Rowan tried and failed to conceal his smile. “So you think we could summon a mystical flying beast, then?”

She scowled, misreading his excitement for scorn. “Don’t make fun. It could help us.” She turned to the next page, pointing to an old, grainy picture. “Now, one last thing. This says it’s a painting of Erdwin, with Serenica, Drunstan, and Morcant. Anything look familiar to you?”

“Well, that Drunstan looks an awful lot like Hen- wait,” Rowan broke off, leaning in closer to the book. “Is that…”

“The same staff?” Veronica finished, lifting Mordegon’s from the ground. “I thought so, too. We know now that Erdwin turning into a star is just a story, so what if the rest of it’s been lost or changed, too?” she spoke faster, her voice animated, “what if _Mordegon_ was Morcant?”

Rowan chewed on his lower lip, thoughtful. “What would that mean, though?”

Veronica carefully marked her place between the pages before closing the book. “Maybe nothing, but at the very least, it means history books don’t know everything, and that Mordegon and Calasmos are connected, somehow.”

Rowan watched her with a small smile, a warmth unfurling in his chest.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Veronica demanded.

“I’m just glad you’re here, is all,” he told her, offering a grin. “I’m not sure we’d get anything done if you weren’t.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she struck a haughty tone, even as she ducked her head down to hide her own blooming smile.

They both turned to the sound of a knock. Serena stood in the open doorway, one hand raised. “Oh, there you are. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Rowan waved a hand. “Come on in. I’ve just been telling Veronica she’s brilliant.”

Next to him, the smaller of the twins flushed crimson. “Oh, stop it, you.”

Serena smiled. “I do hope you don’t tell her too often. It tends to go right to her head.”

“Oi!”

Rowan chuckled. “Were you looking for one of us?”

“Both, actually. Sylvando wished me to tell you we’ve arrived back at the Emerald Coast,” Serena clasped her hands together. “We’re meant to depart for Heliodor in the next few minutes for Sir Jasper’s trial.”

“Explain to me again why we’re helping him?” Veronica grumbled, hugging the book to her chest. “I must have missed when we began _saving_ sociopaths.”

Rowan got to his feet, holding out a hand to pull Veronica to hers. “Comes with being the Luminary, I guess. I just can’t help myself.”

 

Rowan wasn’t certain what he’d expected to find when they arrived back in Heliodor on the morning of Jasper’s trial, but it certainly wasn’t _this_.

When they made it to the gates outside the city they were met by a garrison of Hendrik’s men, and when the gates opened, he quickly realized why - the main street through Heliodor leading up to the castle was cordoned and lined by protestors, all shouting to have their voices heard above the clamor.

“What the hell...did it look like this when Rowan was on trial?” Erik asked, scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes.

Hendrik’s expression was grim. “No. Likely not many outside the castle even knew of the Luminary’s trial, it was kept very quiet and expedited for its severity. But Jasper is well-known here, and the stories of his treachery are widespread. Most of the city will have...opinions.”

Opinions was rather an understatement, Rowan thought, but he stayed quiet. He walked beside Jade, enclosed in a tight circle of guards.

One half of the crowd screamed for Jasper’s head, to see him hanging over the courtyard, and though he held no real love for the knight himself, it still made his stomach turn.

The other side of the street - a far smaller crowd, though they made up for numbers in sheer volume - insisted that Jasper be saved, that one of the great heroes of Heliodor couldn’t _possibly_ be a traitor.

“The damned Darkspawn walks free while Sir Jasper rots!” someone crowed from the horde, and Rowan stiffened. “Is this Heliodor’s justice?”

Before he could blink, Erik was halfway across the cordon, fury in his eyes and spewing venom with his words. “Shut up, you fu-”

He didn’t get very far. The guards plucked him off the barrier, depositing him at Rowan’s side without gentleness, and Rowan reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him until he found his feet. He could hear Hendrik’s scolding, and felt the beginnings of a smile quirk his mouth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rowan started, giving in to the temptation to let his touch linger for a moment more.

Erik shrugged, still bristling. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“You should be more careful,” Jade told him, trying to hide her own amusement, “and remember you aren’t exactly well-loved among the guard here.”

Erik’s expression suggested he couldn’t care less, but whatever retort he offered was lost to the soldier’s shouts and the sound of the castle doors drawing open, and they were swept inside.

 

The Throne Room was deathly silent. Rowan wondered if there would ever come a time he’d stand in this hall with anything other than dread weighing him down.

Very few people had been allowed in this time around. He stood near the back wall, Erik on his right, Sylvando at left. With the exception of Jade, who sat at her father’s side once more, all their other companions had begged off: Veronica wished to continue studying the spell she’d need, Serena went to help her, and his grandfather had claimed exhaustion and gone to take a nap. Hendrik, well. He was nowhere to be found.

Rowan chewed on his bottom lip, glancing at the closed and guarded door behind him.

“Breathe,” Erik instructed. “This mess will be over soon, one way or another.”

“Thanks for coming with me,” Rowan shoved his hands into the pockets of his tunic to try to keep them still. “I know you didn’t really want to.”

Erik grimaced. “Well, I think we’re hoping for different outcomes.”

Rowan figured he was remembering Gondolia and couldn’t blame him. Time once was he’d have put Jasper to the sword himself and would have likely lost little sleep over it. He still felt a burn in his blood when he caught sight of the barely-faded scar over Erik’s heart.

But Jasper wasn’t the only person he knew to fall into Mordegon’s trap, to become a pawn in his game, and Rowan found he couldn’t pardon one without sympathizing with the rest.

He let out a low sigh. Sometimes he mourned the days when good and evil were simple things, with no gray in the space between them.

Rowan looked up and caught Jade’s eye. She glanced from him to the door, a frown in place, and Rowan shook his head.

She didn’t know where Hendrik was either, then.

Without warning, the heavy doors swung open. Two armored guards marched in, Jasper chained between them. He looked smaller than Rowan remembered.

Jasper looked his way. When Rowan met his gaze, Jasper’s eyebrows shot up. He masked the surprise quickly with a shrewd look, eyes narrowing in consideration before turning his face forward.

Rowan couldn’t help but wonder how many others had managed to thwart Jasper’s expectations.

One of the guards pushed Jasper roughly to his knees before the King. Carnelian looked on from his throne, his face impassive.

The Chancellor stepped forward, hands folded. “We are here today to address the charges pressed against Sir Jasper of Heliodor, accused of aiding the Dark Lord Mordegon and thus committing treason against his King, home, and countrymen. The punishment for such heinous crimes, should you be found guilty, must be death. As you are above the age of majority, have you any remarks on your own behalf?”

Jasper dipped his head. “I have a great many remarks, Sir Chancellor, but none I imagine will reach your ears.” Even in chains, Jasper managed to sound imperious. The Chancellor sputtered, but Jasper paid him no mind. He looked up, turning to face the King. “All I can say, Your Majesty, is that I was only serving the King who sat the throne.” He spread his hands as wide as his bindings would allow. “Do with me what you will.”

Carnelian’s expression shifted. His brows furrowed, frown lines deepening. Rowan thought he looked shaken.

The Chancellor’s lip curled. “Will anyone else stand to speak for the accused?”

Rowan glanced towards the door and held his breath. Beside him, he felt Erik stiffen. After a beat, Rowan took a reluctant step forward. “I will speak for him.”

He saw Jasper peek back over one shoulder before turning back to face the front, his shoulders tight.

“You were on trial here yourself only a scant few weeks ago, and still a shadow darkens the sky,” the Chancellor hissed, “what is your word worth?”

The King raised a hand before Rowan could retort. “Still yourself, Chancellor. Prince Rowan, your attempts are noted, and while I do hold regard for your opinion on this matter, I’m afraid we can only consider the testimonies of those of age in this court.”

Jasper’s head bowed lower.

“Should no other come forward, I’m afraid we have no choice but-”

The doors slammed open, and Rowan let his eyes fall closed, relief loosening the tension in his shoulders.

“Wait!” Hendrik shouted, out of breath. “I-I apologize, Your Majesty, for my interruptions, but I have come to speak for Jasper.”

At the front of the room, Jasper went rigid. The Chancellor was openly scowling. “Very well, Sir Hendrik,” he ground the words out, “step forward and say your piece.”

Hendrik crossed the Throne Room slowly, coming to a halt a good three feet away from Jasper. He took a deep, steadying breath. “I cannot speak to Jasper’s intentions, nor can I say what might have happened, had the events the day we climbed to Yggdrasil’s Heart taken a different turn. I doubt anyone of us can. But I can say that he was not the only person the Dark One used to further his own ends - forgive me for saying so, Your Majesty, but I believe you understand that first hand. For most of my life I considered Jasper family, and have known him longer still; the boy I knew would not have been capable of such things. While people are capable of change, whether for better or worse, I’ve chosen to believe that what is deepest in our hearts remains the same.”

Rowan watched as Jasper chanced a look in Hendrik’s direction before dropping his gaze back to the floor.

“It is not my place to say whether or not Jasper is deserving of forgiveness in this court, but I believe now that, to a degree, we are responsible for those around us. Had I been a better comrade, a better brother, perhaps I would have noticed the changes in Jasper. I should have brought him back to the light. I do not know if he can be pulled from shadow,” Hendrik let out a breath, “but someone told me recently that death is the only truly permanent thing,”

The Chancellor was shaking his head. King Carnelian leaned forward. “Then what would you suggest his fate be, Sir Hendrik?”

“I-I think his death would not be truly just, Your Majesty. Would we hang him for his own crimes, or for those of Mordegon?”

“I agree,” the King said before the Chancellor could speak. He turned his gaze to the man who knelt before the throne. “Jasper, I have known you since you were a boy, raised you at my knee as my own son. I would loathe being the one to take your life, but that is all I will leave you with. Effective at first light, you are to be stripped of all titles and exiled from Heliodor. Should you be found within the city’s boundaries, you will find yourself in much the same place, to very different ends.”

 

“I say we go to the Coast and see if the flute will bring Cetacea to us. It would be faster than trying to sail there, at least,” Veronica said.

It was still dark outside, the sun had not yet made its way over the horizon. The crowds outside the castle had died away over the course of the night. Though Rowan wouldn’t have objected to a few more hours of sleep, they had a daunting task still ahead of them and wasting time would not make it any easier.

“You think it’ll work, then?” Rowan asked. They were the only two that dragged their feet, lagging behind as the eight of them walked to the gates of Heliodor.

“I think it’s worth a shot.”

“Wait!”

Rowan paused, turning to look over his shoulder. When he realized who it was that followed them, his eyes widened. Jasper was dressed in plain clothes, a hood up to cover his bright hair. “You-”

“It would seem I owe you thanks, Luminary,” he started, clearly begrudging the words even as they left his mouth.

“Saying you owe him isn’t the same as actually thanking him,” Veronica pointed out, thrusting a finger in his direction.

“Maybe you should thank Hendrik,” Rowan suggested, “I didn’t do much.”

“He did not get there on his own,” Jasper pushed his hair out of his eyes with an impatient flick. “But you did save my life before, and in truth, I did not expect to see the outside of the dungeon.” He cut his eyes away.

Rowan blinked. “Well,” he started, “if that’s all…”

“It is not,” Jasper let out a huff of breath. “It would seem I’ve nowhere else to go, Luminary, and I am not used to such a...purposeless existence. I hear you have an enemy before you that you cannot hope to stand down on your own. My skills would be invaluable to you.”

Veronica scoffed. “You _must_ be joking.”

Jasper’s eyes narrowed, but he pointedly ignored her. “I owe you a debt, and I would see it paid.  I should like to join you in your endeavors,” his face twisted, like his next word tasted foul on his tongue, before he added, “please.”

“No _way_.”

Rowan twisted around. He hadn’t noticed the rest of their friends has turned back to join them. Erik was scowling, hands clenched into fists. “You can’t seriously think we’d let you come with us,” he continued, pure contempt in his words.

“I do not believe I was speaking to you, thief,” Jasper started, his lip curling. “I must say, I’m impressed the Luminary’s pet has teeth left to bite.”

“Okay, enough,” Rowan shot Jasper a glare to silence him before turning to Erik, dropping his voice low. “I hate to say it, but we aren’t really in the position to turn down help.”

Erik’s jaw dropped before he hastily snapped his mouth closed, eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious.”

Rowan grimaced at the swarm in his stomach. “At the very least, we could use him as cannon fodder?”

Erik didn’t smile. If anything, his face darkened further, something akin to betrayal in his eyes that cut through Rowan faster and messier than his knife would have. “When he tries to kill you in your sleep, am I supposed to throw myself in the way?” he spoke through gritted teeth, and Rowan flinched, horrified.

“ _Erik,_ ” he pleaded, but the other spun around on his heel before stalking towards the city’s gates.

For a moment, everyone was silent.

“So dramatic,” Sylvando commented, a clear attempt to cut through the tension, before turning to follow. “I’ll go get our boy, don’t you worry darling.”

Rowan took a deep breath, his chest aching with the effort, then another before managing to find his voice. “Hendrik,” he said, grateful at least when his voice didn’t waver, “what do you think?”

Hendrik’s expression was hard. “Should he behave himself, I imagine we could use the assistance.”

“At last, someone exhibits some sense-”

“Don’t mistake tolerance for forgiveness,” Hendrik snapped, and Jasper fell silent once more, eyes burning. “Just because I didn’t wish to see you dead doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t spare me the same courtesy.”

Jasper dropped his gaze to his boots, his jaw clenching.

Jade glanced between them. “Whatever you decide, Rowan, we ought to get going, if we’re going to make it to Gallopolis anytime soon.”

Rowan let out a shaky breath. “Veronica has an idea I’d like to try.” He leveled Jasper with a hard stare. “You can come with us, but leave Erik alone. And maybe you should remember that every one of us will have an eye on you.”

Jasper pressed his lips together. “Oh, I expected nothing less of you, Luminary.”

* * *

* * *

 

Rowan walked through smoke, keeping a careful watch on his footing on uneven stones.

He knew he traversed a dream, but still felt an odd sense of foreboding, a tension lingering under his skin.

“That’s a heavy look.”

Rowan’s head snapped upwards. He knew the voice and found its owner immediately through the haze as something swelled inside his chest.

Erik stood in the center of a depression in the ground, offering Rowan a strained smile before letting his gaze follow the smoke as it wafted upwards. Rowan sped up to reach him, not sparing another thought for caution.

“I’m sorry about Jasper,” Rowan said hastily, “I didn’t think...I should have realized it would upset you. I’m sorry.” He pressed his palm to his forehead, screwing his eyes shut. “I feel like that’s all I’m saying to you these days.”

He felt a hand touch his cheek and opened his eyes. The corners of Erik’s mouth still tilted upwards, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made Rowan’s heart ache. “I know you are,” he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. He dropped his hand from Rowan’s face. The loss of contact stung instantly, only to be soothed away when Erik tangled their fingers together instead. “I guess it’s not as easy as I said it would be, huh?”

Rowan felt his face heat up, his chin quiver. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed by the tears that welled in his eyes. “I’ve made such a mess of things,” his throat felt thick. “I don’t know how to _fix_ it.”

Erik tugged on his hand and pulled him in close. Rowan went easily, crumpling forward and pressing his face into Erik’s collarbone. His breath broke loose in a shuddering burst.

“It’ll be okay,” Erik murmured. Rowan felt his hand slide up his spine and find its home, curled around the back of his neck. He sagged into him further, boneless.

“How do you know?” Rowan whispered a ragged, broken plea. He felt Erik’s chuckle more than he heard it, blossoming out from the center of his chest.

“I’ve still got some of that faith left over,” Erik told him, his voice lighter, “and I’d bet on us.”

“Can I borrow some, then?”

“Sure,” Erik’s hand played up and down his back. “Whatever you need.”

The ground started to shake. Slowly, reluctantly, they separated - first only arm’s length, then apart completely. “What’s that?” Erik frowned, looking around.

“Where are we?” Rowan asked suddenly, throwing his arms out in an attempt to keep his balance as the ground rumbled beneath them, more violently the second time.

“A volcano, I guess.”

Rowan blinked. He didn’t sound nearly as concerned as he should be. “A _what?_ ”

With no warning, the rock between them split, a loud, splintering crack. Rowan stumbled and fell backward, hands splayed out behind him as he hit the ground. The nerves were back, a livewire under his skin. An alarm bell set off in his head, a warning that had gone unheeded too long.

“Rowan?”

Erik was far away, farther than he should be. Rowan scrambled to his feet, only to jump back, out of the way as fire spewed forth from the gap between them. “Take us somewhere else!”

“I can’t!” Erik called back, alarmed. “I think we-” he broke off as lava lapped up onto the rock he stood on. When fear sprang into his eyes, Rowan felt it twofold.

“Hold on,” Rowan looked between Erik and the molten river between them and sucked in a breath, steeling himself. He wouldn’t feel it, he knew, but logic was rarely stronger than terror.

Rowan’s heart leaped into his throat and stopped cold when the entire platform Erik stood on burst into flames. He couldn’t hear his own scream through the ringing in his ears. He saw Erik’s outstretched hand, and watched for not even a second as he was engulfed in fire before he took off at a run and jumped into the fire to burn with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr to call me all manner of names, or just to chat, if you like. After the holiday I'll be in Florida for a few days, so the next update may be late, or it might not, depending on how much writing I'm able to get done. I can say that I finished writing Act II the other day, and let me just apologize for that in advance. Remember that you guys are the wind beneath my wings and have a wonderful Christmas.


	11. 10: Burning House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year you magnificent people. Now, this chapter was one of my favorites to write so far, and, well. By the time you're done with it, that should tell you a whole lot about who I am as a person.

_Chapter 10: Burning House_

_I had a dream about a burning house_

_You were stuck inside, I couldn’t get you out_

_I lay beside you and pulled you close_

_And the two of us went up in smoke._

_Love isn’t all that it seems I did you wrong._

_I’ll stay here with you until this dream is gone._

_I’ve been sleepwalking, been wandering all night_

_Trying to take what’s lost and broken_

_And make it right._

_I’ve been sleepwalking, too close to the fire_

_But it’s the only place that I can hold you tight_

_In this burning house_

 

* * *

 

_After_

 

Erik watched the Crucible rise from the heart of the volcano at the Luminary’s beckoning. As his eyes tracked Rowan as he stepped forward onto cooling lava stones and walked up to the forge, he wondered how Jade - or _anyone_ \- could ever think of him as soft.

Rowan’s strength was the quiet sort, sure - he wasn’t a mountain of a man like Hendrik or a living, breathing weapon like Jade - but more akin to that of a willow tree, bending to adapt to the winds and shifting into the shape the world needed, but never breaking under the strain.

Erik had been paying attention more and more, since they’d discovered Cetacea, to the very specific things that made up the Luminary. It wasn’t something he’d given much thought to before, but as they walked closer to the moment of reckoning, he grew curious to see where the line might lay, between what was distinctly _Rowan_ and what was more. With every day that passed, he only became more certain that the line didn’t exist at all.

He was convinced that Rowan was simply always meant to be extraordinary, mark of light or no. While being the Luminary had pushed him to his journey, it wasn’t the reason he’d stop in his tracks to pet a stray cat or dog and slip them bits of his lunch before continuing on his path, not worried that he’d be left with less. It wasn’t magic that drew him to a child in need in just about every town they stumbled through, nor was it his divine responsibility that forced him to go out of his way to help them; something he did every single time. He had a title and a purpose, yes, but he’d been one to raise his sword in defense of anyone who needed it long before he knew of such things. Being the Luminary might have made him a beacon, but it was Rowan that shined.

He just couldn’t figure out what it was about himself that Rowan needed, or whether it was only Erik that needed _him_. After they’d watched Erdwin’s Lantern shatter, Erik had walked around with a pit in his stomach. The last Luminary had ascended the skies and become a star to watch over the world below, or so the stories went. He didn’t put much stock in children’s tales, but fear dogged him all the same as he worried over how many times the world might try to take Rowan away, or if he even had the right to try to keep him at all.

Erik looked over at him then, as Rowan lifted the forging hammer high over his head, grunting with the effort of slamming it back down on the anvil. His arms shook with strain, and when he paused for a second to swipe his sleeve over his forehead, weariness in his eyes, Erik had a moment of sudden clarity.

He _understood,_ with all the abruptness of the sun breaking through the clouds, why Rowan might just need him, too.

Luminary or no, Rowan was just one person, just one boy, and no one could hold the entirety of the world on their shoulders endlessly without faltering, without eventually succumbing to the weight.

Erik reached out, his fingers curling around the haft of the hammer right below Rowan’s hand. He looked up, startled, and when their eyes connected, Erik felt it, all the way down to his toes.

“I’ll take it from here,” he said. The battered tiredness in Rowan’s face melted away, and the look he gave him stole Erik’s breath - warmer than the heat coming off the rocks, with a gentle tenderness he’d never seen before and gratitude that ran far deeper than such a simple act warranted.

It looked an awful lot like _love_.

Erik wanted to step forward, thread his fingers into Rowan’s hair to finally see if it was as soft as it looked and pull him in, press in close until they shared skin, and find out if they, too, could catch fire.

He might have, if they didn’t have an audience.

Instead, he lifted the hammer to his shoulder, letting a smile stretch his mouth. He could bear its weight, for a little while.

He’d carried heavier burdens before, after all.

* * *

* * *

 

Rowan jolted awake as he rolled and hit the floor hard, sweat-drenched blankets falling from the bed with him and sticking to his skin.

He pushed onto his hands. His breath came in violent gasps, shoulders shaking as horror licking at his heels. He thought he might well and truly be sick when his stomach rolled, the stench of smoke still lingering and choking him.

He jumped when a light flickered on.

“Are you okay?”

 _Erik_.

Rowan turned, drinking in the sight of him, relief sapping what remained of his energy. His arms gave out, and he sagged back down to the floor. It was blissfully cool beneath his cheek. “ ‘M fine,” he whispered, barely aware of the tremors that still wracked his limbs.

He felt a hand come down on his arm. “You’re _shaking,_ ” Erik sounded startled, _concerned,_  even - they’d gone to bed in the Inn without speaking, but as Rowan opened his eyes once more and searched his face, he couldn’t find a single trace of his earlier fury. “What’s wrong?”

After a moment, Rowan found air that wasn’t tinged with ashes and sucked in a breath. His head stopped spinning, so long as he focused on blue, blue eyes.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he mumbled. He wasn’t aware of when he’d moved, but Rowan found his own hand covering the one Erik had placed on his skin. “Bad dream,” his tongue darted out to wet dry, cracked lips. “Just a bad dream.”

He couldn’t imagine one that could possibly be _worse_.

Erik’s gaze flicked from their hands before resting back on Rowan’s face, his brows knitted together. “You didn’t,” he said, and left it at that. “Are you alright now, then?”

_Not even close._

“Sure,” he said, trying to take slower breaths, anything to stop the rapid thudding of his heart. “Sure, I’ll be fine.”

Erik lingered for a moment more, indecision clear in his face, before he rocked back onto his heels, his hand slipping away.

Rowan felt something in his chest tighten. His hand shot out, fingers curling around Erik’s wrist and pressing in until the steady beat of a pulse answered his seeking touch. “Wait,” he whispered.

Erik went still, his gaze searching. Rowan’s cheeks warmed.

_Death does not take well to being cheated._

His breath caught, stuttered in his lungs, and suddenly he needed _out_.

“I-I’m going to take a walk,” Rowan stammered, releasing him and scrambling to his feet so quickly his vision started swimming. “Clear my head a bit.”

Erik looked baffled. “O-Okay,” he said, his gaze following Rowan to the door. “Do you want-”

Rowan shut the door with a slam behind him, stopping the question before he could beg _yes, come with me, never leave my sight._ He took the stairs at a sprint, stumbled out into the desert night and swallowed cool air like a man drowning, before tilting his head back to the night sky.

_I fear it will only be a matter of time before a price must be paid, and I urge you to be prepared to face the cost._

He could hear the Seer’s warning so clearly, a relentless echo in his ears. “Over my dead body,” he hissed to the stars, vehement, as though they’d been the ones to offend. He started walking, the pavement scraping his bare feet, and decided he didn’t really need to sleep at all.

The day passed in a blur. Rowan couldn’t remember exactly how long he’d roamed the dark streets of Gallopolis, only that he wandered until his feet ached and street vendors emerged from their homes, out to their booths to prepare for another day. He’d watched, numb, as life went on around him while he felt as though he stood at a precipice, waiting only for a strong wind to blow him over the edge.

Hours later, he was still reeling. Restlessness stirred his stomach and made his knee bob up and down under the table. The dining room at the Inn was mostly empty, save himself, his companions, and a scattered few other patrons.

Rowan pushed food around on his plate, not quite able to force himself to eat it. Around him, conversation buzzed, a persistent hum that caressed his ears but never made it much deeper than that.

They were planning their attack. He ought to join in. He should be spearheading the development of a strategy, but Veronica seemed to be doing well enough on her own.

Rowan dropped a fist onto his knee, pressed down until his foot fell flat onto the floor. It was hard to imagine that, only weeks ago, he’d somehow had to get on without her.

“I’ll be able to pull off the spell, but it says we need to do it in a place of great power, and I think that’s relative to the caster’s brand of magic,” she was saying, and Rowan looked up from his plate to see that everyone else had mostly finished their meals. “So I think I’ve figured out the best spot. We can take Cetacea to Mount Huji, it’s-”

Rowan’s fork slipped from his fingers, dropping onto his plate with a loud clatter. Veronica broke off and turned to look at him with a frown.

He blinked, snapping his mouth closed with a swallow, and dropped his gaze. “Sorry.”

“As I was saying,” she continued, “we fly to Mount Huji, it’s not far from here, or where Calasmos is in the sky, anyway-”

“I still can’t believe we have a flying whale,” Erik interrupted. “Am I the only one who thinks that’s crazy?”

“She was a part of the old legends,” Serena pointed out, “so it’s not so unusual, I’d think, for the new Luminary to have her, too-”

“Can we get back to the plan, _please?”_

“I’m sorry, but is a volcano really a good idea?” Rowan blurted out. Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “I just mean...a volcano? That sounds, uh, dangerous?” he finished lamely, feeling his face heat up.

“What part of calling down an ancient, evil god and trying to reseal him in a star _doesn’t_ sound dangerous to you?” Veronica argued, her voice impatient. “I don’t think we’re in the position to ignore a large part of the only advice we’ve been able to find. Mount Huji hasn’t erupted for years, and it’s the only great source of fire I can think of.”

“The small one is correct, I’d say,” Jasper spoke up testily from the opposite end of the table. There was an empty chair on either side of him, though whether he’d intentionally left the gap between himself and the others or because no one had wanted to sit near him, Rowan couldn’t say. He imagined it was a bit of both. “There is little sense in continuing to debate the locale of this foolish undertaking.”

Rowan sank down further into his seat. He felt a sharp pain in his palm and realized he’d been clenching his fist until little half-moon divots marked his skin.

Veronica was scowling, clearly torn between objecting to Jasper’s addressing of her or accepting the support for her plan.

“I agree,” Hendrik leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “We should instead decide who will accompany Veronica and Rowan, as I assume the Luminary must be present to call upon Calasmos?” he glanced at the sage for confirmation before nodding once. “If our aim is not to fight but to bind him, then I suggest we focus on a small, primarily defensive team. I fear that too many of us will simply be too large of a target, too big of a risk. I volunteer,” he ducked his head. “I believe my abilities would be well suited for this.”

“Four would be best,” Jasper added, propping his boots up on the table. He held up a hand and ticked off with his fingers. “The Luminary, the sage, Hendrik, and I should be more than adept for the task at hand, provided it is attainable at all.”

Everyone else seated at the table protested, voices rising all at once.

“Why should you be the last one to go?” Jade argued immediately.

Serena’s mouth dropped into a small frown. “I would think you could use a healer close at hand…”

“I’m going,” Erik said, and Rowan’s blood ran cold. He could practically smell smoke, sticking in his throat and cutting off his air.

_“No.”_

The cacophony of voices fell quiet as all eyes turned in his direction. He’d spoken louder than he’d meant to, and far angrier. Rowan lifted his eyes from his still-full plate and found Erik staring back, his expression one of confused surprise.

“Of course I am,” his brows lowered, perplexed. Rowan knew why. They’d fought side by side since the day they met. Erik was practically an extension of his own blade, and Rowan’s shield was his guard.

“No,” Rowan said again, rising on shaking knees. He pressed curled fists into the table in an effort to steady himself. “No. Veronica and I have to go, but Jasper’s right. Hendrik and I have healing magic in a pinch, and he and Jasper have the most training for this sort of thing. We all have defensive magic, swords, and shields. It’s the best team.”

“So I’ll go with you,” Erik stood as well, combative. He hadn’t turned his fierce gaze away from Rowan, and he couldn’t look away. “It doesn’t have to just be four. I’ll go, I can help-”

Rowan could see Erik when he blinked, burned into his mind, stained to the back of his eyelids. _Fire, a rising plume of it, engulfing him as he stretched out a plaintive hand, a cry for help as he burned, burned, burned-_

_A price must be paid._

“I said no!” Rowan slammed his hands flat on the surface, the smack echoing through the room. His knees gave out, and he sank down into his chair, letting out a ragged, shaky breath as he raked a hand through his hair. “No way.”

“And that’s it?” Erik glared at him, his voice as incredulous as it was furious. “I’m just supposed to roll over, let you go without me? Do you really think that’s how this is going to work?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew they had an audience, knew what the battle must look like to outside eyes - too passionate, too intimate to simply be among friends. Everyone was deathly silent, not wanting to watch, unable to walk away. Rowan didn’t care.

He and Erik rarely fought, but when they did they both laid their hearts bare, all the more easy for the other to cut open.

“You are not going up to that volcano,” Rowan growled, even as the hole in his chest gaped wide open, “and _that’s_ how it’s going to work.”

Erik would not be the cost.

“That’s _bullshit_ ,” Erik snapped.

Veronica was chewing on her lip. She broke in with a timidity he’d never heard from her before. “Erik, I think Rowan’s right,” she didn’t flinch when he turned his glower on her, only stared back, resolute. “I get that you - _all_ of you - want to help, but the fewer people we risk, the better, and defense just isn’t your strong suit. We’re not fighting to win this one. We’ve just got to hold out long enough to lock him away.”

The muscle in Erik’s jaw was twitching as he cast his eyes away, every line of him taut and angry. Without another word, he shoved his chair back and stalked from the room.

* * *

* * *

Rowan fought sleep. He was too warm, too keyed up, too aware of Erik’s angry stillness in the next bed.

Too afraid to go back to that volcano and watch him die again.

But he’d barely slept the night before, had spent far too many hours aimlessly walking an empty city, so when sleep rose up and crashed over him, taking him down and under against his wishes, he didn’t have the energy left to fight the current.

When he opened his eyes next, it took several moments for him to realize he was in a dream, before he briefly ceased thinking altogether.

He’d never experienced _this_. While it was true he usually did enter dreams after they’d already begun, it was the first time he’d walked into a dream he’d already been a part of.

Erik was dreaming about _him,_ and had been for a while.

That much was obvious. They were both stripped to the waist. Rowan was on his back in the grass, a fistful of it clenched in his hand, electricity crackling in his blood. He felt the light scrape of teeth against his neck and gasped. Erik continued down, pressing a searing kiss to his throat, right above the rapid beat of his pulse. Rowan felt his slight weight settling over him, the hard lines of his body sliding over his own and let out a shuddering breath. He could feel the curl of Erik’s mouth, the imprint of his smile against his collarbone.

Rowan sank his hands into Erik’s hair before skimming them down his back, letting his eyes fall closed. He’d missed so much, but especially the simplicity of touching him. It was a high, Erik’s mouth on him, his skin under Rowan’s fingers, and it’d been so _long._ He could stay here awhile, he knew, hold fast to what was offered and bask in it. He could press a memory into flesh and hide away from what plagued him, weighed him down.

This was burning of a different kind, and Rowan was all too happy to melt away to ashes.

But even as he got what he craved - Erik’s breath on his neck, the play of his hands over his skin, fingers in his hair - his nightmare lapped at his heels, as inseparable from him as his own shadow.

Rowan couldn’t help it. His whole body tensed.

Above him, Erik went still. His chin came to rest on Rowan’s sternum and he looked up, one eyebrow quirked upwards. “Is something wrong?”

Goddess, but his _voice_ \- husky and rough. He felt it in a jolt, in every nerve, every inch of him.

Rowan let out an unsteady breath when their eyes locked. Erik’s eyes were molten and dark. Hesitation flickered there, followed by insecurity, but what he saw most was _need_.

If he saw hunger in the boy that rose over him then Rowan was almost certainly ravenous, but something held him back. Though he’d fallen into Erik’s dream, Rowan was the one dreaming, in the truest sense of the word. It was a fantasy, more a cruelty than a kindness, because it wasn’t real, not anymore. He’d been so starved for this, for his touch, his _love_ \- but love was greater than want, more than fuel to a wildfire, and he felt something distinctly wrong about allowing the charade to continue. It would be the mere sanding away of the sharpest edge of an addiction unsated, and would only return more fiercely, all the more piercing for having been blunted once before.

Rowan did not want a body without a heart. Were he to wake, Erik would not be beside him. The gap between them was nothing more than a few feet but felt insurmountable, all the same. When he woke up, he’d feel the absence more keenly, the loss would swallow him whole.

But he was still in a dream, and in it, Erik was waiting for an answer, uncertainty mounting with every rapid breath. When he made to pull away, Rowan’s hands grasped at the wings of his shoulder blades and held on.

He wasn’t ready to let go. He couldn’t imagine a time he ever would be.

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he said, softly dragging his palms up and down Erik’s back until the tension all but fled. “Could I just...could I hold you for a while, just like this?” His voice sounded desperate to even his own ears. It might well be the last time he had the privilege.

The thought burned his throat, his eyes. The sun was setting overhead, and he chased the last dregs of light.

Erik’s expression softened. “Sure, yeah.” He was still breathless, and the sound of it made Rowan shiver.

This could be the memory he’d take with him, the one he’d look back on as the last - Erik’s cheek pillowed over his heart, eyes half-lidded and heavy, still dark as the sun died away.

A tear slid from the corner of Rowan’s eye as he screwed them shut, scalding down the side of his face. He trailed his fingers down Erik’s spine and tried to memorize the feeling.

“I can’t lose you again,” Rowan whispered into his hair, his voice wavering, “I couldn’t bear it.”

If Erik heard him, he gave no indication.

Rowan knew that, when one struggled in the water, they didn’t drown all at once. Most would fight the waves until they were overwhelmed, too tired to continue, limbs too fatigued to keep up the battle. Only then would they succumb to the sea and let the tides take them.

He wondered if there could be relief in that, an ease to sinking. Hope was a fleeting thing, and it was dying, gasping for breaths. He was so tired of holding onto it as it slipped through his fingers.

“I want to stay,” he spoke again, his voice louder but still mournful. He splayed his hands wide over Erik’s waist. “I want to stay just like this and never wake up.”

Erik’s eyes opened slightly wider, mild bewilderment battling contentedness. “Then stay,” he murmured, his accent thicker with sleepiness. “Stay with me.”

He couldn’t. Rowan knew all too well that their love could not outweigh the needs of the world, the very world that had named him as other, as _Luminary_ , and forged him in fire and branded him as theirs.

His life was not his to have.

Rowan took a deep, shaky breath. When he woke up, Erik would look at him in anger. They would stay on their separating paths, and if the Seer’s words were to be believed, the world would try to steal him away, drag him somewhere Rowan could not follow. There were a million ways to lose him, and so few left to keep him.

When the last vestiges of sunlight fled from the sky and darkness fell in its place, Rowan pressed his fingers into warm skin and held on all the more tightly for one more second, then another, before willing himself to wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you guys are the bomb diggity, I love ya, stay beautiful. Let me know what you think.


	12. 11: Knocking on Heavens Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearly beloveds, we are gathered here today for a new chapter of this utter mess. Thank you to those of you who wrote me such amazing comments on that last chapter, you have no idea how many times I died of sheer joy each time I reread them. Also, if you like the original version, you should definitely check out Raign's cover of Knocking on Heavens Door because it's gorgeous and that's the song I listened to during this one. Without further ado, here we go.

_Chapter 11: Knocking On Heavens Door_

 

_Mama put my guns in the ground_

_I can’t shoot them anymore_

_That cold black cloud is coming around_

_And I feel I’m knocking on heaven’s door_

 

* * *

_After_

 

When Erik trudged up the steps towards his bedroom at the Inn, he was only mildly surprised to hear cursing from behind the door.

He and Rowan had always shared a room when they stayed in town, and usually slept back to back when they camped. It was fine - what he preferred, actually - and it had never been an issue until recently.

The morning before they’d made it to Hotto, when they slept out under the stars in the Steppe, Erik had woken up to find Rowan still asleep and wrapped around him like a vine; his face was pressed against Erik’s neck, hot breath on his collarbone, Rowan’s fingers grazing the bare skin of his hip where his shirt had ridden up. It wasn’t a problem in itself really, quite the opposite. Erik was just having trouble keeping control of his hands.

He pushed the door open and leaned against the entryway, taking a moment to watch Rowan struggle with the clasps on his armor. Erik felt a grin stretch the corner of his mouth.

Rowan spun around, nearly losing his balance. “Oh,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I’m-”

“Stuck,” Erik finished for him, smirk in full bloom. “I can see that.”

He pushed off the wall, crossing the room toward him, and lightly batted Rowan’s seeking fingers away. “You’d think by now you would have figured out how to get out of this thing.”

“One would think,” Rowan agreed, relaxing under Erik’s hands as he deftly found the hidden clasps and released Rowan from his cuirass. “I wish you’d wear some,” he continued, finding the lock on his vambrace on his own. “It would be safer.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to move at all.” It was old banter between the two of them, but it warmed Erik inside out every time; the simple knowledge that he _cared_ , enough to bring it up time and again. “I’d be nice and safe, and useless.”

Erik hooked his fingers under the armor’s collar. His thumb brushed the side of Rowan’s neck, and Erik heard the hitch in his breath. He pulled plate metal over Rowan’s head before letting it drop to the floor.

“You’re never useless,” Rowan scolded, tossing the rest of his armor into the pile.

Erik tucked his sheathed daggers under his pillow, on the bed to the left. The newly forged Sword of Light stood at Rowan’s bedside, gleaming in the low lamplight.

“Tomorrow we’re going to face Mordegon,” Rowan continued, biting down on his lower lip. Erik’s gaze dropped to the movement, drawn like a moth to a flame. He could see little imprints from Rowan’s teeth in the soft skin, where he’d clearly been doing it a lot. Erik knew it meant he was nervous.

“Anything could go wrong, and I just-” Rowan broke off as he lifted his eyes up to Erik’s, and let out a low breath, “-want you to be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Rowan huffed, raking a hand through his hair. Erik’s fingers itched to push his hand aside and do it for him. “You are _not_ ,” Rowan argued, taking a step closer. “I’m being serious.”

“Relax, okay? We’ll be fine,” Erik said. He’d been repeating it on loop in his head for days now to try to make himself believe it.

Rowan took another step. His hands came up to rest on Erik’s shoulders, and Erik went completely still under his touch, as though any sudden moves would break the spell, scare him off.

“We might not be,” Rowan’s voice was soft, his blue-gray eyes solemn. “We might not be, and I-” his heavy gaze dropped to Erik’s mouth.

Erik inhaled sharply and held it in. His own hands fluttered at his sides. For the first time he could remember, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “You what?” the question came out rough, in barely more than a whisper.

“I’d like to have something to take with me,” Rowan murmured. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes darted up to meet Erik’s before sliding away again, shy and unsure. “A good memory, if you want…”

He trailed off, a small but noticeable shiver rolling through him as Erik’s hands came back to life and skimmed up Rowan’s side. Erik curled his fingers around the back of Rowan’s neck. “Yeah,” he breathed, months of longing in just the one word.

Erik wasn’t sure who moved first - he knew Rowan leaned in, or maybe he _pulled_ him - but Rowan’s fingers twisted in his tunic, and Erik’s lifted from his neck to tangle in his hair, and when Rowan pressed his lips to Erik’s, neither one of them hesitated.

Erik sank into it, feeling one long, fluid jolt go through him. He could feel Rowan’s touch, light as a butterfly at his cheek, his jaw, not wanting to land in just one spot. Erik drank him in, heady. He splayed one hand over Rowan’s spine to draw him in closer, wanting to share heat, to share skin. With his other hand, he scraped his fingers over Rowan’s head, silken strands sliding through his fingers, and delighted in the small, stifled noise Rowan made. Their noses grazed as Erik tilted his head, swept his tongue over Rowan’s bottom lip, and felt the gasp in his chest where they pressed together. He could feel Rowan’s heartbeat, slamming against his ribs, and heard his own in kind while blood rushed in his ears. He thought the world might have spun in the opposite direction, or maybe that was just his brain short-circuiting.

Rowan brushed his lips over Erik’s once, twice more before taking a deep, shuddering breath. Their foreheads touched, Rowan giving in to the encouraging press of Erik’s hand against the back of his neck. Erik wove his fingers through the downy hair at Rowan’s nape before opening his eyes.

 _This is what it’s supposed to feel like,_ he realized, _when all your missing pieces slide home at once._

Rowan’s eyes were still closed, spots of color high in his cheeks. His lips were parted; Erik watched as his tongue darted out, as if to chase the last taste of the kiss they’d shared, and heat blazed through Erik’s blood.

He wanted nothing more than to fall back into him, like two stars colliding. He’d let his fingers seek skin and he’d taste that graceful spot where Rowan’s neck met his collarbone. But something nagged at him, an anchor holding him back.

It took Erik a moment to find his voice. “Please tell me that wasn’t just a, ‘We might die tomorrow, I wanted to know what it was like,’ type of thing.” His voice was ragged, wrecked completely by just the one kiss, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

Rowan opened his eyes, and Erik was fascinated by how little blue was left for the blown black of his pupils. _He_ had managed to put that look on his face. “We might die tomorrow,” Rowan admitted, low and rough, “and I’ve wanted to know what _that_ would be like for longer than you know. But I’d rather we live, so we can do it again tomorrow, and maybe every day after, if you like.”

Erik swallowed. His chest ached, but it was a sweet sort of pain, like his heart had swelled far too much for his body to hold in. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Rowan’s answering smile was beatific. One of his hands came up to touch Erik’s cheek, to cup his jaw in his palm while his thumb caressed his neck. “I’m glad.”

Erik’s cheeks ached from the force of his grin. “Great,” he started, hooking his fingers in Rowan’s collar, much as he’d done before. “Now come back, because I wasn’t nearly done.”

He yanked Rowan back down and pressed a kiss to his laughing mouth. 

 

* * *

* * *

The church was silent. It had been for close to an hour, and likely would remain that way for hours more. Rowan didn’t know how late it was, or rather, how early; he’d left his shared room at the Inn once again in the dead of night, unable to give himself back to a sleep that took more than it offered. He knew only that the sun had yet to rise for the lack of light filtering through stained glass windows, the absence of colorful shadows on the flagstones. He knelt before the altar, head bowed low and neck aching with the strain as he prayed to his Goddess. For more than one traitorous moment, he wondered if She even listened.

“I’ve done everything I can think of,” Rowan whispered, his voice raw as it cut through the quiet, “but I’ve made so many mistakes. When I look in the mirror I barely recognize myself anymore.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “But today I face the Dark One and I ask you not for my own protection, but for the ones that go with me, and the ones that stay behind. Lend me the strength I need to be the extension of your hand and I will do it. I will _always_ do it. But please, don’t take from me what I love most,” he begged, shutting his eyes. “If I am your Chosen One, _please_ , do not take from me what I can’t lose. Mighty Yggdrasil, I beg you, safeguard my friends. Fill me with the strength I need to do what must be done. And in the end, I hope I can find forgiveness for the choices I’ve made, and the ones I still have to.”

Rowan heard a purposeful footstep behind him. He opened his eyes before turning to face the door.

Erik stood a few paces from the entrance, head tilted to one side as he considered him. Rowan had no idea how long he’d been standing there. Erik could be as quiet as he chose, and had likely only made a noise to let Rowan know he was no longer alone.

“What do you need forgiveness for?” Erik asked, his voice guarded.

“A lot of things,” Rowan said. There was a weariness in his voice, dragging at his limbs as he rose from his crouched position. His muscles protested movement after being still for so long. “I’m not immune to regret.”

“Like what?” Erik took a step closer. He wasn’t wearing his daggers, something Rowan noticed immediately. The chosen vulnerability said a lot, he thought. Erik hadn’t come looking for a fight, nor with the intention of starting one.

“Like the distance between us. The fact that I’ve made you so unhappy recently,” Rowan watched the minute shifts in Erik’s expression. ‘It’s never my intention to hurt you.”

 His face tightened. “Then let me go with you today,” he said with a vehemence that startled Rowan. “Let me fight with you.”

 _Anything_ , he’d told him, not so long ago. But Erik asked for the one thing he couldn’t give, and Rowan hated the realization that he’d turned himself into a liar.

“I can’t,” Rowan rasped. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Erik closed the space between them. His hands grasped Rowan’s shoulders, fingers pressed into fabric, into skin. “Why?” he demanded, eyes burning. He was so close; his anger, his _hurt_ , were tangible things, crackling in the air between them. “There’s something you aren’t telling me, I know it. Why won’t you just let me help? Why would you trust Jasper over me?”

Rowan balked. His own hands came up, latched onto Erik’s arms. “You can’t _possibly_ think-”

“I don’t know what to think!” Erik’s expression was thunderous, all dark clouds and rain. “I haven’t known what to think for weeks! You’ve been acting so weird, you won’t tell me what's going on with you, and now-” he broke off, his jaw ticking, throat working through words that wouldn’t come out. He cut his eyes away.

“You have to understand,” Rowan started, only for Erik’s gaze to sear back into him.

“You want me to understand? Tell me the truth.”

“Ask me again tomorrow,” Rowan whispered. _Tomorrow,_ he thought, swore _, tomorrow Calasmos will be dealt with and I can tell you, damn what the Seer says._ “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

Erik shook his head, an edge of desperation tainting his expression. “And you don’t think I want the same thing?” His grip tightened. Their eyes locked, and Rowan couldn’t possibly look away. “You think I can just sit here and wait to see if _maybe_ you come back down-” he stopped abruptly, his breath leaving him in a rush. “I won’t. I _can’t_.”

Rowan went still, arrested. He so rarely spoke of his feelings, kept them guarded so cautiously always. He could see it, in Erik’s eyes: some faint recollection of the dream they’d shared, some lingering heat that waited only to be kindled into flames. Erik’s lips parted, eyes dark, and Rowan stared back, breathing hard.

 _He might kiss me._ The mere thought of it made him dizzy.

Rowan wanted to press Erik back, pin him between the wall and his body and whisper promises into his skin, soothe wounds of his own making with kisses and relearn the shape of him under his fingers. But if Erik were to close the space between them, to take a step over the chasm and claim his mouth, it would be a furious thing, full of hurt and spite. Rowan remembered sweetness all too well to taste bitterness in its place.

Rowan tugged on his sleeves and pulled him in close instead, wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck and turning his face into Erik’s hair. Erik was stiff for only a moment before going pliant in his embrace, his fingers twisting into the back of Rowan’s tunic, fisting in the fabric and holding on tightly. It was as if he, too, wanted nothing more than to crush them together until they were under each other’s skin.

“I’ll follow you,” Erik told him raggedly, a threat if Rowan had ever heard one. He tensed as Erik continued, “if you don’t take me with you, I’ll just follow you.”

 _Fill me with the strength I need to do what must be done,_ he echoed a silent prayer.

Rowan breathed him in and held it until his body shook for air.

_I hope I can find forgiveness for the choices I’ve made, and the ones I still have to._

He hoped too that Yggdrasil was listening.

Rowan turned his face until his lips brushed Erik’s temple. _“Sleep,”_ he whispered, and let magic flow from his fingers.

Erik went rigid. His hands clasped at Rowan’s arms, seeking something to hold onto as he fought the spell that took him under. His knees gave out from beneath him, and Rowan caught him as he fell, hauled him in against his own body and went down with him, sinking to the flagstones on his knees. He caught the flash of surprise in Erik’s eyes when he turned his face up, searching, and the hint of doubt, of _denial_ , that flickered in his expression was nearly Rowan’s undoing.

Rowan bowed his head low before the altar until his forehead touched Erik’s, unable to watch as his eyes fluttered closed and his breaths evened out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, screwing his own eyes shut, his breaths harsh and loud. “I’m _so sorry._ But I will not pay the price.”

_Not if its meant to be you._

When Rowan lifted his head a few moments later, his eyes were dry. He rose to his feet, carefully lifting Erik’s slumbering form into his arms, before tenderly settling him into the bed in the back room of the church. Then he turned and walked outside to wait for the sun.

 

Everyone was worried, unsettled, so they’d kept well-wishes simple and subdued. No one said goodbye, no one dared put words to the fear that one or more of them might not come back.

And though Rowan knew they all wondered, knew they turned to each other and asked in murmured voices, no one asked _him_ where Erik was.

He supposed it was something closed off in his eyes, something guarded in the tightness of his shoulders and the tension in his spine that let them know that, after the fight they’d witnessed the night before, it was likely better not to.

Rowan was made of granite, had finally turned to stone.

Veronica walked beside him as they made their way up through the caverns of Mount Huji, heading for the summit. Her bag was slung over one shoulder and she used her heavy wand as a walking stick.

Hendrik and Jasper walked in front of them, with several feet of space between the two. After several moments of silence, Jasper spoke up. Though Rowan didn’t particularly want to eavesdrop, he had little choice but to overhear.

“Did you mean the things you said when you stood for me in Heliodor?”

Rowan blinked. He looked down and found Veronica looking up at him with wide eyes.

Hendrik stiffened. “What does it matter to you whether or not I meant my words? You live, do you not? Is that not what you wanted?”

At his sides, Jasper’s fingers curled into fists. He shifted in his borrowed armor. “That is not all I wanted, no.”

“Then what is it you are fishing for, Jasper? Do tell me what would please you.” There was a harsh bite to Hendrik’s voice, one Rowan wasn’t sure he’d heard before.

“I simply find it hard to fathom that Sir Hendrik, the darling of the realm, would debase himself to lying only to save the skin of a traitor. But of course it’s merely yet another step higher for you, is it not? So that you can stand above me and reach down with the hand of pity once more, to allow those below you the vain hope that, perhaps one day, they too could stand with you on a pedestal meant only for one.”

Hendrik was silent for several moments. When he turned to face Jasper, he looked flabbergasted. “That cannot truly be what you think of me,” he hissed. “Perhaps there was a moment when I meant what I said, that had I been a better brother to you, maybe I could have seen the dark path you’d turned down.”

Rowan didn’t think he imagined the way Jasper flinched at the word ‘brother’. _That_ , at least, Rowan understood well.

“I’d wondered how you were able to sell your soul so cheaply, how you could turn your back on our Kingdom, our pledge, our _duty_ ,” Hendrik continued, “now I know you simply never cared for any of it at all.”

“Believe it or not,” Jasper said slowly, eyes narrowed, “there exist things in this world that surpass one’s duty, and laws that rule far higher than a pledge. That does not mean that I never once cared, nor that I do not care still. I’m here, am I not?”

Hendrik sped up his pace, shaking his head.

“I reached only for something more and fell a long way for my trouble,” Jasper continued. “Is there nothing in this life that you’d risk everything to gain?”

There was a sadness in his voice that stunned Rowan. It was no easy thing to reconcile the man before him with the one who’d willingly become a demon, a Spectral Sentinel, but then, _this_ was Jasper stripped clean of his bravado, separated from the dark power he’d wielded as both sword and shield, to guard his heart with one while blindly lashing out with the other. This Jasper had never won a victory in shadow, had nothing to his name, and thought he had even less left to reach for.

As they passed through the volcano’s heart, Rowan thought once more of fire: always capable of either scorching or forging, and very little in between. He wondered what each of them would become in turn, if they managed to walk through flame and come out the other side - naught but embers, or hardened into steel?

Hendrik had gone silent, either unwilling to answer or unable. Veronica glanced Rowan’s way once more before pausing on the path, stepping aside to shed her bag from her shoulder. She tucked it behind a rocky outcrop, leaving herself with only her spellbook and staff in hand. “Just in case,” she said, catching Rowan’s quirked eyebrow.

Just in case they failed, in case they burned away to nothing. For a moment, he wondered if he’d ever get a chance to confess everything he’d kept secret from Erik for a month, if he’d ever get to _see_ him again, or if he would die with things left unsaid. If he would fade away with time to become only a tainted memory to Erik, a what-if, a might-have-been that left a bitter taste behind.

Rowan gave his head one violent shake, trying to clear the thought away.

The cave mouth opened up ahead, and Rowan clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling a prickle in the mark on his hand. He had to focus.

He had a job to do, and he’d long ago learned that nothing - no feeling, no law - could supersede his duty to the world.

 

When Rowan raised his fist high, used his mark to call great shadow down from where it besmirched the heavens, he did everything right.

The three warriors managed to keep Veronica safe while she cast her spell, her eyes screwed shut and sweat dotting her brow as she pulled old magic from the heart of the earth to change the skies above. Rowan stopped to watch, aching and sweating, as shadow collapsed in on itself, folded back into a bright red star that would hang above them for centuries to come. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs, muscles sagging with relief.

Rowan cast his eyes around to his companions - Hendrik, standing tall and triumphant; Veronica, hunched forward and leaning on her want, but grinning; Jasper had his sword dangling from his fingers and was favoring his left leg, but he had a look of an awe on his face, a lightness Rowan had never seen there before.

Rowan let out a breath. He hadn’t had more than brief snatches of sleep in days, but they’d _done_ it, and perhaps he could finally, _finally_ -

He heard a loud, rumbling groan as the ground beneath them shook and splintered, a plume of smoke exhaling from the center.

“What madness is this?” Hendrik exclaimed, raising his sword as though nature itself could be quelled with it.

Veronica’s eyebrows furrowed. She had a thoughtful frown in place, incongruent with the severity of the situation at hand. “I think the volcano is erupting.”

Rowan stared at her. _Should have known, I should have known._ “I thought you said it was dormant!” he yelled instead, his voice jumping straight up an octave.

“Clearly not.” Jasper looked calm, eerily so, as if he couldn’t care less either way.

Veronica’s frown turned guilty. “It _was_ , but...I guess drawing power from it…” she trailed off.

“Right,” Rowan’s heart kick-started. “We need to _go_.”

The ground around them exploded.

Rowan was thrown backward by the force as the rocks rent apart. Pain laced up his elbow as he landed on it. Heat flooded the air, nearly unbearable in its intensity. The volcano was shaking so violently his teeth knocked together. Rowan shoved himself up to his knees, desperately seeking out someone, _anyone_ he’d brought with him to the summit.

Anyone he’d brought with him to their doom.

He found Veronica’s red cap through the smoke. She was tucked against the slanting mouth of the rock wall, and he saw shaking stones high over her head, mere moments from falling.

He didn’t think, he just dove.

Rowan dropped his sword to the ground. He grabbed Veronica with his newly freed hand, pulled her in close, tucked under the protection of his body as the rocks broke loose overhead. He twisted his already damaged arm to lift his shield above them, to block the worst of the collision.

But he’d moved too quickly, his stance sloppy, and found a bad angle. He felt a radiating stab of pain to accompany the sharp, audible _snap._

His breath came out in a hiss, taking a stream of curses with it.

Veronica gripped his other arm so tightly he wouldn’t have been surprised if she left indents in the metal. “What? What happened?”

“Arm,” he panted, letting it drop with the weight of the shield when the crashing died away. He felt another bolt of agony, and couldn’t bother to be embarrassed by the noise that escaped his throat. “My arm. Think it’s broken. Will you-” he gestured towards his sword with his chin.

Veronica’s face was white. “Can’t you heal it?” she grabbed his sword, turning in his hold to slam the blade home in its sheath on his back.

Rowan stumbled to his feet, lifting her up with him. When his shield straps clung and pulled on his useless limb, he sank his teeth into his lip so hard he tasted blood.

“Probably not,” he admitted. “I’ve never healed anything that complex,” he tightened his hold on her as he looked around, trying to peer through the smoke.

“What good is that, then?!”

He ignored her. Veronica wrapped one arm around his neck, the other clinging to her staff and book, and held on. Rowan figured it was a true testament to the situation at hand that she didn't immediately smack him for carrying her.

“ _Why_ are you still dragging that book around?” he asked. He found the cave entrance through the haze and started running.

“Serena wanted to return it to the library,” Veronica told him, pressing her face against his shoulder to avoid the smoke.

“That is _not-_ where are Hendrik and Jasper?” he ducked away, heart racing as a geyser of lava sprayed up from where he’d been about to step. His arm throbbed mercilessly with every heartbeat.

There was a heavy sheen of sweat across his brow, but he had no way to reach up and swipe it off. The ground continued to quake beneath his feet, rock falling away to magma, to _fire_.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _I’ve led us all to our deaths._

He felt the earth beneath his boots start to give way. In the next breath, a heavy weight slammed into him from behind, sending him flying forward.

Rowan curled inward, wrapping himself around Veronica as she screamed, and took the brunt of the impact with his shoulder. He was back on steady ground and stunned.

Jasper was before them, visible only from the arms up as he struggled to keep his hold on crumbling ground, dangling over an open chasm to the lava below. When he noticed Rowan’s blank, shocked stare, he scowled. “Go!” he snarled, gritting his teeth against the strain. “Get away while you can, foolish-”

“I can’t just leave you to die,” Rowan protested. His mind was racing - he could set Veronica down - even though he _hated_ that idea - he could dive for Jasper’s arm, grab him -

His left arm ached furiously as he shifted towards the edge, a stark reminder. He couldn’t use it at all. He wouldn’t be able to pull Jasper up.

“My debt to you is paid,” Jasper hissed, slipping slightly and scrabbling at the rocks. Despite the feigned carelessness in his voice, there was a very real fear in his eyes. “Go, Luminary,” he spat, “do not waste it.”

Another figure shot through the smoke. Hendrik hit the ground hard, threw his arm out, and locked his fingers around Jasper’s wrist and held.

Jasper looked stunned. “You-” he panted, “when will you stop saving me?”

Hendrik grit his teeth. “Not today,” he swore, before throwing his weight backward, pulling Jasper up and over the cliff face enough for him to find his footing.

The two stared at each other, breathing hard.

“Cetacea,” Rowan gasped, as more fire spewed around them. “Veronica, the flute. We’ve gotta go-”

He broke off as all the color drained from her face. “I can’t,” she whispered, “I don’t have it, I-”

_“Where is it?! "_

“The cave,” she swallowed, “it’s in the cave, in my bag.”

The cave they were cut off from, could no longer reach from where they sat.

“Well,” Veronica said, “at least we took care of Calasmos.”

She accepted it so quickly, so calmly. Rowan was thoroughly horrified. It reminded him all too clearly of another time, another sacrifice.

Tucked into the relative safety of his functioning arm, Veronica closed her eyes and started praying.

“We are _not_ dying here today,” Rowan told her, fierce. Hendrik and Jasper had made their way over to them, the four of them huddling together on whatever stable rock remained. “We’re not. Grab onto me,” he told them.

“Rowan,” Veronica started, “you can’t zoom all of us-”

“Watch me,” Rowan growled.

Hendrik did not need to be told twice. One hand came down on Rowan’s shoulder, his other still fastened around Jasper’s forearm. Jasper’s hand unknowingly found Rowan’s broken wrist.

If anything, the stab of pain brought sharp clarity, helped him focus. When they were all connected, two knights, a sage, a Luminary, he closed his eyes. They were all going, or none of them were. The mark on his hand started to glow, _burn_ , and Rowan summoned up what was left of his energy and willed them away.

The inferno raged on. Lava lapped up to claim the rock they’d taken shelter on, but the four who’d sat upon it and awaited death were there no longer.

 

When Rowan opened his eyes, the world spun around, constantly shifting. There was a loud ringing in his ears that made all other sounds seem far away.

He was still clinging to Veronica with one arm, a tight band around her small body. He could feel her fingers digging into his neck, her face pressed to the front of his ash-streaked chest plate. His left arm had gone numb, twisted into the dirt and still tangled in the straps of his shield.

Jade was already upon them, her hands fluttering over Rowan, Veronica, before landing on Hendrik and holding on. “Are you alright?” she was asking, over and over, and likely would continue to do so until someone found a voice to answer her. Rab and Serena were on her heels, matching expressions of surprise and concern.

The corners of his vision were rapidly going gray, then black. Rowan’s gaze narrowed on to one figure, running towards them from a distance. He knew the shape of him anywhere.

As Erik drew nearer, his expression made Rowan’s stomach pitch and roil. He looked very much like someone who’d woken up to find their nightmares come to life.

He thought he saw Erik’s lips shape his name before he fell back and down into shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've only got one chapter left to go in Act II, guys. As always, thank you thank you thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.


	13. 12: Walking Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, we've reached the conclusion to Act II. As always, you guys are the absolute best and I'd totally help you hide a dead body, no questions asked. Well I might have some questions, but alas, let's get on with it.

* * *

 

_Chapter 12: Walking Blind_

 

_There’s been a mistake,_

_There’s been a misunderstanding_

_Dirty your hands tearing my heart into pieces_

_If this is the end_

_Then we whisper the wind and release it_

_We don’t have to know_

_We don’t have it all worked out_

_We can just keep walking blind_

* * *

 

_After_

 

Sunlight filtered in through the window, touched Erik’s face and warmed his cheek. He opened his eyes - reluctantly, blearily at first - and then relaxed, his expression softening into a smile.

Rowan was sprawled over him, an arm flung over Erik’s stomach, a leg tossed over his own. His eyes were closed, eyelids fluttering as he dreamed, and Erik hoped wherever his mind was, it was a pleasant place. Though his injuries had been seen to the night before, Rowan still had dark circles under his eyes; remaining evidence of the toll being the wall between the world and what would destroy it had taken on him.

Erik could still scarcely believe they’d _won_.

It was overwhelming, the realization that they’d all gone into the castle to take on Mordegon, to save the world and avenge Veronica, and what’s more, they had all come out alive.

That was no small thing, he knew.

Next to him, Rowan murmured something unintelligible, his breath stirring the hair that fell in his face. Erik reached out and brushed it aside. He trailed his fingers over Rowan’s cheek, his jaw, down to the faintly visible red mark on his neck, right above his collarbone.

Erik grinned. He knew how _that_ had gotten there.

After they’d found their way back to the ground, after wounds were healed and assurances made, he and Rowan snuck away from their friends, running away to the hot springs with hands clasped, stealing time like thieves in the night. They’d washed away fear and grime and fallen into each other with desperation, all greedy hands and mouths, half-mad with relief that the other was there, breathing and solid and _alive_.

Rowan was not as scrawny as he looked, Erik learned. He’d suspected as much, certainly - as much time as Rowan spent swinging a sword around, it had to count for something. Erik trailed his fingers lower, down Rowan’s chest and gliding over his ribs. He also discovered that he wasn’t the only one who’d wanted more out of the _first_ time they’d visited Hotto’s bath, and now, he could look back on the wildness with which they made up for lost time with a wicked smile, one that warmed him from the inside out.

Rowan’s stomach tightened under his fingers, and he let out a low hiss. “That tickles,” he complained, eyes still clenched shut.

“Does it?” Erik mused, filing the fact away for later. He was having the best time with this new education, and absolutely reveled in soaking up all the information he could about the boy beside him.

“I’m sleeping,” Rowan grumbled. He was not a morning person, but Erik had already known that. Rowan caught his exploring fingers and drew Erik’s hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm, then to each of his fingers in turn. “Shh.”

Erik's breath stuttered. “Not anymore,” he pointed out, his voice lowering. He curled his other hand under Rowan’s knee, pulled until their hips met, their bodies flush against each other, and delighted in Rowan’s gasp.

Rowan’s eyes slit open, half-lidded, heat warring with the leftover dregs of sleep. Erik threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged him closer.

“My breath probably smells,” Rowan warned, though he didn’t put up much else in the way of a fight. His hand grazed lazily over Erik’s waist before rubbing up and down his spine.

“I don’t care.” When Erik kissed him, he could feel the stretch of Rowan’s smile.

He didn’t know where they’d go next, what turns might lay on the path ahead, and for once, the thought didn’t bother him. Erik had heard a story long ago, an old myth that said those destined to be lovers were tied by a red thread, bound to eventually meet and find each other, to help each other in some way. He’d never put much stock in tales, never cared much for magic, but he’d also shed a great deal of his skepticism along the way. He and Rowan were connected, had been for longer than either of them knew, and though the thread might tangle, might stretch, Erik felt certain it wouldn’t ever break.

 _Put your faith in the Luminary,_ he remembered, and grinned against Rowan’s mouth.

He did, every single day.

* * *

* * *

 

When Rowan clawed his way back to the land of the living his arm was still hurting and his eyes were crusted over, but he felt more rested than he had in weeks. He wondered if there wasn’t something to be said for a total loss of consciousness.

Once he managed to open his eyes, he found his grandfather sprawled in an armchair in the corner of the room, snoring. Veronica sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed. When she looked up from the book in her lap and met his eyes, she grinned.

“Oh, good. I guess this means you’ll live after all.”

He made to sit up and hissed as a lance of pain shot up his arm. _Stupid move._ Rowan looked down to find his left arm swathed in tight bandages. It rested in a makeshift sling, tied up and knotted at the back of his neck. He frowned. “What-”

“I’m afraid you managed to break it pretty thoroughly, Rowan,” Serena told him from the doorway, both scolding and sweet in a way that only she could manage. She offered a smile as she walked to his side. “It will take a few days of healing before we can get it back in tiptop shape.”

“What about Hendrik, and Jasper? Are they alright?” Rowan couldn’t remember much of what happened after he’d made the decision to try and zoom all four of them away from the volcano, a feat he’d probably be unable to repeat and likely _shouldn’t,_  if the weakness he’d felt after draining his magic entirely was anything to go by.

“Bruises and burns. They’re already in better shape than you, but for two men who grew up as knights, they really make terrible patients,” Veronica said. “Very whiny. Jade’s been bouncing between this room and theirs.”

Rowan reached out and grabbed her hand. “Hey,” he tugged lightly, “you did good up there. Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Veronica protested, waving away his praise even as another smile lit her face. “Short of nearly getting yourself killed, you did well, too. Sylvando’s gone after the Calamus flute, by the way, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Nodding, Rowan tossed his blanket back and reached down for his boots with his functioning hand. There was a notable absence in the room, and with everyone else accounted for, the itch to go find the one missing was quickly growing unbearable.

Serena frowned at him. “Rowan, you should rest.”

Veronica shook her head. “He’s been resting for days,” she jerked her chin towards the door. “Check outside. He left a while ago.”

 

Rowan found him easily. When something troubled him, Erik gravitated to the water, wherever it might be.

He nearly blended into the small spot of green growing things, surrounded by desert. Erik sat by the oasis just outside of the gates, knees drawn up to his chest. Rowan knew the air was too still, too warm for Erik to be comfortable in it, and he felt nerves rise under his skin, a swarm break loose in his stomach. Something had driven Erik out of Gallopolis, away from cooler air and other people and made him want to be alone, and Rowan feared he knew exactly what it was.

Rowan tucked his elbow in close to his ribs, a bird with a broken wing, and trudged across the sand to Erik’s side. “Hey,” he started, but the greeting barely made it out. Rowan cleared his throat and tried again, and Erik startled.

He looked up, his expression an ever-changing myriad of emotions Rowan couldn’t begin to decipher before Erik wiped them away, a mask sliding in place. His eyes flicked over Rowan before settling on his sling.

“How’s the arm?”

Rowan sank down into the sand next to him. “Uh, good. Well, it’s alright. Serena said it’d take a few healing sessions before it's back to normal. But I can move my left hand again, see?”

He wiggled his fingers in demonstration. Erik watched, impassive, before turning back to look at the water.

Rowan tucked his other hand under his leg to keep it still. Though his mind raced, he couldn’t quite find anything else to say.

After several minutes of weighted silence, Erik cut through it for him. “You put me to sleep.”

It wasn’t a question, nor was it even an accusation, and somehow, that was worse.

“I - yeah,” Rowan exhaled. “I owe you some explanations, I-”

“You don’t,” Erik said.

Rowan shut his mouth.

Erik glanced his way and let out a low sigh. “You don’t _owe_ me explanations, or your secrets. You don’t owe me anything, really. I guess that’s how I’ve been acting, though.” He dropped his gaze to his feet, brows furrowing. “I mean, sure, I’m pretty angry that you took my choice away from me like that, but that’s not all…” he raked a hand through his hair, clearly growing frustrated. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“Yeah?” Rowan asked, barely more than a whisper.

Erik pushed his foot into the sand. “I think after we get back to Heliodor, I’m going to get my stuff and head back to Mia.”

Rowan’s response was instantaneous, out of his mouth before he could process what he’d said. “I’ll go with you.”

He caught the flicker of a smile on the corner of Erik’s mouth; strained, sad, and bitter. “I think I’m going to go alone,” Erik told him.

Fear, hot and visceral, made Rowan’s stomach turn over, his skin feel too tight. He turned to face Erik, dropping his good hand into the sand to steady himself. If he reached out with his fingers, just a little farther, he could touch him, but Erik felt too far away, locked down behind walls he’d built so long ago.

“You don’t have to go alone,” Rowan stumbled over his words. “I want to go with you. You don’t have to leave, _please_ -” his voice rose and broke. He swallowed, reaching deep down for some semblance of calm. “I can help you.”

Erik wouldn’t look at him. His shoulders were hunched forward as if something inside was hurting. “It’s funny,” he mused, “all I’ve ever wanted to do since we met is help you. But I don’t think you need me anymore.”

Rowan’s body jerked, a puppet on a snapped string. “That’s not true.”

“It is, though,” Erik pressed his lips together before continuing. “What do you think is gonna happen when we get back to Heliodor? You’re the Prince of Dundrasil. Rab’s been talking about rebuilding, that’s something you’ll get dragged into. You’ve got all of Heliodor on your side: the King, Jade, Sir Hendrik, even Jasper-” his eyes flashed, but he kept going. “We’re done chasing orbs. The world’s been saved. I’ve been looking, Rowan, but I don’t really see a place where I fit into all of it anymore.”

“You _do,”_ Rowan protested, his mouth going dry.

He was shaking his head. “You don’t _need_ my help like you used to. You know what you’re doing, hell, you even put me to sleep to take me out of the equation.” Erik stared at the water hard, blinking rapidly.

Rowan’s heart shattered. The shards just kept falling, infinite, cutting him open as they went. He’d done so much more damage than he’d ever thought possible. There had to be something, he thought, something he could say to explain, the perfect string of words to make his reasons clear. He opened his mouth, but words wouldn’t come.

Erik turned his face in Rowan’s direction; studying, but careful not to make eye contact. “Mia needs me, though. She’ll be back on her feet in no time, so I’ll head to Sniflheim, to be there for her.”

Rowan couldn’t breathe. His throat was constricting, too thick to speak. He wanted to scream, beg, anything at all that might change his mind.

_I’m sorry._

_I need you, I will always need you._

_Don’t leave me._

_I love you._

_I love you._

Nothing made it out. Another voice echoed in his head, just as loud, just as relentless.

_You took my choice away._

That much he _had_ done, Rowan realized. He’d taken the indelible trust they’d shared from the day they leapt from a cliff top and he’d shaken it, twisted it into something unrecognizable and taken it for granted. He’d made Erik feel like he no longer had a place at his side.

What Erik didn’t know was the simple fact that he was ingrained, so deeply a part of Rowan that when he left, he’d tear him apart completely with the severing, leaving a gaping wound that would bleed and bleed until Rowan had nothing left in his veins.

A body was not much without its heart.

That ever-distant tomorrow had finally arrived, the day Rowan had waited for to come clean, to spill his secrets, but he was too late. Erik was already lost to him, as distant as the horizon line; always within his sights but forever out of reach. In trying so desperately to save him, he’d pushed him away. The both of them had walked through fire after all, but only Erik had reached the other side. Rowan was the one who burned and burned.

Rowan swallowed. “Will you come back?” The question tore free from his throat, broken and weak.

Erik’s shoulders tightened, his face hardening into steel. For a split second, Erik thought about lying - Rowan could see that much in his eyes. He considered offering a maybe, but then, Erik had never been one to waste time with empty words.

“I don’t know,” he said, and at last, some of the anger Rowan knew was there, simmering somewhere deep inside, made its way to the surface. It underlined Erik’s words and mixed with misery, a mirror of the desolation Rowan felt.

“Oh,” Rowan whispered, before falling silent completely. They stayed quiet for more minutes than Rowan cared to count. Eventually, Erik let out a shaky breath and stood up. Rowan felt a hand fall onto his shoulder, felt him squeeze. Rowan flinched. He couldn’t help it. With his world falling apart around him, the touch that had always been one meant to comfort was enough to undo Rowan completely.

Erik’s hand fell away from him. Out of the corner of his vision, Rowan watched him turn and walk away. He glanced back over his shoulder more than once as he went as if he were feeling it, too - the violence of cleaving one half away from the other.

When he was gone, out of sight completely, Rowan pushed his head between his knees and let himself crumble into dust.

 

He’d never dared think of it before, but had Rowan ever allowed himself to picture what the day Erik left his side might look like, he imagined it would be black, storming and angry, with torrential rain slamming onto every surface.

In reality, it wasn’t.

The sky over Heliodor was bright, blue and gleaming. The shining sun hurt Rowan’s eyes.

He hung at the back of the small gathered crowd, standing as far as he could from the gates while still remaining where he was expected to be. Though he’d finally been allowed to ditch the sling the day before, Serena declaring his arm back to normal and fully functioning, he still felt the urge to keep it tucked in close, to hold it and himself together.

Half of his friends were leaving, and now that the day had come, it scared him. Every single one of them was intrinsic to his make-up; he couldn’t remember what it was like to be without. Rowan wondered what would be left of himself when the smoke cleared and he had to look at his bare bones, most of his pieces scattered to the winds.

He’d said the majority of his goodbyes already. He’d clung to Veronica long enough to embarrass her, finding it a little harder to let her go again. He pressed a warm kiss to Serena’s forehead, a farewell and a thank-you. The twins would be making the trip north on the _Stallion,_  too, to return to Arboria to visit their parents. Erik intended to make good on his promise to track down his sister in Sniflheim. Sylvando had told them briefly of plans to check on family in Puerto Valor and left it at that. Most of them, Rowan knew, would be back in the next few months. Veronica had promised that much, saying she didn’t trust Rowan to be on his own for long.

He’d been relieved to hear it. Rowan didn’t know what to do with himself when left to his own devices, either.

He watched as Jade tugged Erik into an embrace and ruffled his hair. Erik reached up and swatted her hand away, a smile curving his mouth. Rowan stared. He hadn’t seen him smile in days.

As if he sensed his gaze, Erik looked over. Their eyes locked, and Erik’s face tightened, his mask slipping; Rowan could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and a hurt that he felt down to his own bones.

Rowan wondered, his heart skipping a beat, if Erik might stay, if he asked. If he dropped to his knees and begged to keep him, was there a chance he might not go?

But he’d already taken his choice away from him once, and he couldn’t do it again. Rowan owed him a great deal, would cut open his own skin if it would give Erik even a chance at being happy; if Erik somehow felt he needed his permission to leave, even as it tore Rowan apart, he would give it.

Rowan stepped forward, his movements mechanical. He reached out, dropping his hands onto Erik’s shoulders, and felt tension bunch up in the lean musculature there.

“Mia’s waiting for you,” Rowan murmured. Under his hands, Erik relaxed by degrees, even as something agonized twisted his mouth down into a frown.

“I-” he started, but Rowan shook his head.

“Wait, let me just-” Rowan took a gasping breath. “Let me get this out. I want you to know, I - if you ever need anything, _anything_ at all, you send for me, okay?”

Erik stared back, unwavering. His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Okay,” he said, his voice soft.

Rowan bit down on his lower lip. He’d made a similar promise once already, and he’d broken it. “Just know that no matter what you think, you’ll always fit in with me. And if you ever need to come home, you find me.” He swallowed. “You’ll _always_ have a home with me.”

Erik’s eyebrows rose at that, his lips parting. For once, he looked utterly lost for words.

“Okay,” Rowan said, injecting false cheer into his voice, and making it crack in the effort. He gave Erik one last, long look, trying to commit the lines of his face to memory. He thought about hugging him and discarded the idea hastily.

Rowan didn’t think he’d be able to let him go, when the time came.

Too quickly, he dropped his hands, took a stumbling step backward. As he turned, he thought he saw Erik’s hand twitch in his direction before he shoved it into a pocket. As though some instinct had made Erik reach out, and he’d thought better of it.

When something right below his ribs started to ache, throbbing and fierce, Rowan pressed a fist to the spot, pushed in until his breaths came a little easier.

Somewhere along the way, he’d figured out how to manage the drowning.

 

Rowan found his way up to the battlements. From there, he could just barely see the ocean. He could almost make himself believe he could see the outline of the _Stallion_ in the gathering darkness, could pretend that, as long as he kept watch, Erik wasn’t yet out of his sight.

He heard the sound of footsteps but didn’t turn. A moment later, Jade appeared at his side, eyes widening at the view. “I’d wondered where you disappeared to, but after seeing this, I can’t say I blame you.”

“You’ve never come up here?” Rowan shifted, making a space for her to sit next to him on the parapet. Jade settled down beside him, letting her legs dangle over the edge.

“Of course not. I would never have been allowed up here as a child, and remember, I’ve only been to this castle recently as many times as you have. We haven’t exactly had much of a chance to explore.” For a moment, she fell silent, before adding, “Rowan, you can talk about what’s bothering you, if you like. Or we could just sit here and enjoy the sunset.”

Rowan felt the hint of an involuntary smile lift the corner of his mouth. “What do you think it would have been like, if we’d grown up together?”

Jade glanced at him, but let the change of subject slide. She tilted her head to one side, considering. “I think it likely would have been nice, most of the time. But you probably would have been one of those bratty little brothers, always messing with my stuff.”

The teasing startled a laugh out of him. It made the tight sensation in his ribs worse, brought the ache back in full force, and his smile dropped away. “Maybe not. I wasn’t such a brat to Gemma. I was always fetching her scarves from trees, I was _nice_.”

Jade was still smiling, but she was watching him, taking his measure. “I think we ended up in a similar place, either way.” Her voice got softer when she continued, “I’m sorry Erik left. I was a little surprised. I know it can’t be easy for you.”

Rowan tilted his face to the sky and closed his eyes. He thought ‘easy’ was an interesting way to put it. Nothing had been _easy_ since the moment they’d found the Tower of Lost Time. It felt like a lifetime ago. “Why are you surprised?” Rowan asked. He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands, curled his fingers into fists. “I mean, his sister is in Sniflheim.”

Jade arched one eyebrow. “I imagine I just thought he wouldn’t go without you,” she said slowly, “considering you’re very clearly in love with each other.”

The hole inside him gaped wider. He couldn’t summon up the effort it would take to pretend otherwise. “I don’t think he’s in love with me,” he whispered, “I did a pretty good job of ruining that.”

“Oh, Rowan, honestly,” Jade offered a small smile to soften the impatience in her words. “Regardless of what happened between you the night before you went up to Mount Huji, you didn’t see him after, when you were hurt. You don’t see the way he looks at you when _you_ aren’t looking at _him_.”

Rowan was still staring at his hands. He’d been clenching his fists so often recently he was beginning to have little silver half-moon scars in his palms. “I was trying to save his life, you know. He couldn’t go up to that volcano, no matter what, and I didn’t know what else to do...I really didn’t think, and in the end, it’s my fault he’s gone.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for what you’re trying to say, but it doesn’t matter how he looks at me, not really. If he believes I don’t see _him_ , none of it matters. He’s angry, I hurt him, made him feel like he doesn’t belong with me. I doubt he’s going to come back.”

“I think he might surprise you,” Jade said quietly. “Your grandfather would tell you that these things are fragile. He’d tell you that if you hold a bird too tightly in your hand, you’ll crush it, suffocate it. But if you hold your hand open, it might fly away, but it might just come back.”

“I already killed the bird,” Rowan said bitterly.

“Stop being morbid. Erik is obviously the bird,” Jade insisted, “and he’s not dead. He’ll come back, you’ll see.”

Rowan tried to force a smile. He didn’t believe her. “What would you say?” he asked instead.

Jade glanced at him, her expression puzzled.

“You said what Rab would say. What would _you_ say?”

“I think...that maybe love has a way of pulling people back together, no matter the distance. Even if you thought it was impossible, even if you believed you’d never see them again.” Jade sounded wistful. She was looking up at the emerging stars, moonlight washing her out and turning her eyes to silver. “Matters of the heart can take some time, but we’ve still got plenty of that left. Don’t give up on hope just yet.”

 _Hope,_ Rowan thought, with a weary sort of sigh. It was the ever-present thread between two points, the rope that held you even while it cut into palms and wrapped around throats. He was constantly losing fingers to the razor’s edge.

“I don’t know what to do next,” Rowan admitted, drawing his knees up to his chest and dropping his chin to rest on them. “I don’t know who I am anymore without trying to save the world, without someone or something to _fight_ ,” he started to shake, ever so slightly. “I don’t remember who I was before this, without _him_.”

Jade reached out, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and drew him in. Rowan let his head fall onto her and forced himself to relax into her embrace. She smelled like flowers and warmth, and for someone he equated with steel and strength, she was softer than he’d imagined.

It was nice, he thought, to simply be with someone who’d loved him so long, before she’d even known him. She had always looked for him and had loved him all the more when he was finally found.

Jade, of all people, would be able to find him again.

“We can figure that out,” she promised. Rowan felt her cheek come to rest against the crown of his head and closed his eyes. “We’ve got time.”

((End Act II))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hopefully you guys are still with me? Questions, concerns, or rants, you can find me in the comments here or on tumblr @anytaintedcreature. Smooches.


	14. 13: Bluebird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back for more, dear friends of mine. I want to thank all of you guys for reading, for giving kudos and leaving such awesome comments - we're going to start walking towards that light at the end of the tunnel here soon. Enjoy.

* * *

 

_Act III_

_Chapter 13: Bluebird_

 

_Word came through in a letter, one of us changing our minds_

_You won’t need to guess who,_

_Since I usually do not send letters to me t_ _hat are mine_

_I told him I saw this coming, that I’d practically packed up my things_

_I was glad at the time that I said I was fine_

_But all honesty knows I wasn’t ready, no_

_And so, here we go, bluebird_

_Back to the sky on your own_

* * *

 

_8/09_

 

_You left yesterday. I mean, it probably hasn’t even been an entire twenty-four hours, so let me be the first to say that I know full well just how pathetic I am for writing you already, and I certainly don’t need you to tell me._

_But really you could, if you wanted to. Because at least then you would be speaking to me._

~~_To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do without you. But that’s not your problem, I shouldn’t put that on you_ ~~

_Forget I said that._

_Anyway, at the end of the week, Jade and I are going to Cobblestone. I’m a little ashamed to say it was her idea first. She thinks it’d be good to go help with the rebuilding there, and of course, I agree with her. I can’t imagine Hendrik wouldn’t go with us, so between the two of them and my Mum, my good old hometown doesn’t stand a chance but to shape up. Carnelian lent some of his men to Rab to take to with him to Dundrasil to start there. So...that’s the plan._

_Honestly, it took me all of two hours after the Stallion left the coast to realize that I never got around to telling you everything, did I? I swore I’d tell you the day after Calasmos was defeated. ‘Ask me tomorrow,’ remember? I meant to, you know. When I found you by the oasis outside Gallopolis. But I got distracted. Just another broken promise to add to the pile, I guess. I hope you know that I meant it, when I said if I could have told you earlier, I would have. I used to love telling you things. I wanted you to know everything about me and I wanted to know everything there was to know about you. I know most things, now, but that last fact hasn’t changed - if you ever decide to come back one day, I’d love to hear about everything you did and everything you saw while you were gone._

_But I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, that I didn’t owe you explanations, or secrets, or anything. Maybe you just said that because you were tired of me, because you didn’t want to hear excuses, or maybe not. But either way, I think you were wrong._

~~_I think that maybe, when you lo_ ~~

_I’m sorry I let you down. I know I did, and I wish every day, every minute, that I did better, because I do owe you. I owed you more than I gave you, and I’ll always regret that._

_Jasper told me once - sorry, I know you hate his guts, but bear with me - Jasper told me that I was naive to believe in change simply because I wished for it. And maybe he was right, because I wished for a lot of things, and still I got the exact opposite of what I wanted._

_But recently you told me you still had faith. You won’t remember it, but you did, and now that you’re gone and Jade is pushing her hope agenda pretty hard, I guess it’s my job to be the one to hold on to that faith for a little while. For safe-keeping._

_I don’t know where to postmark this, since you’re not going to make land for a few weeks. I guess I’ll just hold onto it._

_Stay safe out there._

 

_Yours,_

_Rowan_

 

* * *

 

_8/13_

 

_Cobblestone is so different._

_I mean, I realize that’s obvious. It’s not different than it was the last time you saw it,_ ~~_but the last time I saw it it was the Last Bastion, so it's different now than it was then, and this won’t make any sense to you, because I still haven’t explained shit_ ~~

_I’m awful at this. Bear with me._

_Currently, I’m writing this in the approximate location of my old bedroom, which is now little more than rubble. We’re building a sort of Inn first, towards the center of the village, so everyone who’s here has somewhere decent to stay. I’m used to sleeping on the ground of course, but damn if I don’t miss you next to me._

_Hendrik’s nearly got everyone whipped into shape. He’ll have this place up and running in no time, and the irony is just everywhere, if you know where to look._

_I feel guilty about it, but I’ve been hiding from Gemma. She tried to kiss me the night after we showed up, and, well. It was an unpleasant moment. I hate it, but I fear that conversation is not going to go as well the second time around, and I’m just...tired of repeating things and doing worse the second go around._

_Time travel is a wild thing, let me tell you._

_...Did you like how I snuck that one in there? No?_

_How do you tell someone something like that, though? I used to lose sleep over it, and trust me, I got so little sleep as it was. I’d spend hours worrying over how I was going to tell you what I’d done, how I was going to explain something I probably would never have believed in if I hadn’t experienced it for myself._

_Anyway, when you said I’d been acting weird for weeks, there was definitely a reason._

_When you go back in time, it’s such a surreal feeling, and especially when it came down to you. Suddenly, I was back in the middle - not the beginning, and nowhere near where we ended up, but somewhere stuck, lost in between._

_The in-between spaces. That’s a good way to describe it._

_I was stuck in between what I knew, what I’d experienced, and what you and the rest of the world hadn’t. I had to analyze every little thing, every moment, every word, and try to remember what happened before and after. Goddess, but my life turned into so many different before and afters - before being the Luminary, after. Before Yggdrasil, after. Before the Tower, after._

_Now it’s before Erik, and after. But I’m trying so hard to believe I’m still in the middle there, too._

_It’s not an excuse really, but an explanation at the very least - I couldn’t tell you what was happening, because at first, I was constantly trying to understand the effect I had on time itself. After a while, I just couldn’t._

_I couldn’t screw up again. I hope you can understand that._

_I - shit, someone’s calling me_

 

_Stay safe,_

_Rowan_

* * *

_8/20_

 

_I don’t think I can live here anymore._

_That comes off as dramatic, probably. It’s simpler than that. It’s just, after you and I came back here and saw what happened, I said goodbye. The Cobblestone I grew up in was gone, and it still is - this new Cobblestone doesn’t and won’t feel like home. I have my doubts any place can feel like home anymore._

_I don’t think I can go back - to try and pretend I’m still the same Rowan I was before I climbed the Tor and my mark lit for the first time. Before I became the Luminary, before we stopped Mordegon, Calasmos, etc._

_I’ll never be the same Rowan I was before I met you._

_Mum will be upset with me, and I hate that. I think she believed everything would go back to normal, that her little soldier would return from war unchanged. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but...well, we’ll stay long enough for Cobblestone to be back on its feet, but after that, I don’t know._

_Jade’s helping me, and I’m trying to figure things out. But it’s slow going._

_You’ll be in Sniflheim soon. If you had good winds, you might be there already._

_I hope you stay warm. I hope you and Mia find somewhere better than that cave to sleep, somewhere with beds and a hearth and good food. I hope you enjoy that treasure hunt she’s going to guilt you into._

_I did, when I got to go with you._

_You won’t remember this, but when we got to Sniflheim, before, you took me around and showed me all of your old haunts. Your favorite spots to watch the skies change, your favorite places to sleep, to hide things - even though I know most of you hated that town, some small part of you still loved it, and I loved seeing the places that made you happy, even if only for a moment._

_It’s memories like that that made it hard, after I broke Time’s Sphere, to be close to you. It hurt so badly to put space between us, but at the same time, if I didn’t, it felt a little like being unfaithful to the you I left behind._

_But that time is gone, and it didn’t take long for that feeling to go away, for me to realize you were absolutely the same, just missing some memories. But the rift was already open, and you were always the one to jump fearlessly, not me._

_Anyway, I’ll be counting sunsets, naming the stars, and I’ll remember when we did the same thing. For now, that’ll have to be enough._

_Please, come back soon._

 

_May Yggdrasil watch over you,_

_Rowan_

* * *

 

_10/04_

 

_I got a letter from Veronica the other day. She says they (though mostly just her, I imagine) are already bored in Arboria. So she and Serena want to come back and visit soon, as Jade and I are back in Dundrasil, but I don’t know how long I’ll be here, either. Rab is suggesting I go to Mount Pang Lai. It’s a thing princes did in the past._

_Anyway, the rebuilding here is going well. Magic helps it along, I’m sure. The main castle should be livable by spring._

_Hendrik had to go back to Heliodor. Being away from the kingdom so long probably made him a bit itchy. Jade clearly misses him, though she won’t say. I know she’s nervous about going back too, to really be the Princess for the first time since she was a kid. I think they’ll help each other figure it out. The only reason she’s been with me so long is that she worries I’m going to fall apart, but I think I’ll manage, when she goes. I’ll miss her, but I’ll be okay._

_Two days ago, I found my way down to the old dungeons to free my father. I have a to-do list, you see, of things I did before the Tower, after Yggdrasil - things I would likely need to do again. Breaking Mia’s curse was on there. That’s how I knew where she was, by the way, although it went a lot smoother this time around. I’ll tell you that story, one day._

_Saving my father’s spirit from the Gloomnivore was another item on the list. You’d probably be mad that I didn’t take anyone with me. Jade was furious when I got back, but it would have taken so long to explain, and I just...wanted to do it alone._

_I realize that’s a direct violation of the lesson I’m meant to be learning here, but some things a guy just has to go do on his own. It was hard, the first time, and in all seriousness, I almost lost. It’s a powerful demon, and the urge to just float away, to drown, well, it’s a lot to deal with._

_This time was worse, but I did it. I’ve still got the same guilt - hell, even more really - and if hope is the thing that counters despair, I’ll be truthful with you, I don’t have a ton of that going around._

_But before, I wasn’t used to it. I know that sounds melodramatic. I’m probably not explaining this well. What I mean is that I think there’s something to be said for it, at least, that I know I can keep going, no matter what weighs me down, no matter what hurts. If I keep moving, I can make it through the fire, too. Even if I’m alone._

_I’m proud of myself for beating it alone, if I’m honest._

_But I wish you were with me instead, and that makes all the difference._

_I’m sorry for driving you away. If you never believe anything I say again, at least know that is the truth._

 

_Faithfully yours,_

_Rowan_

* * *

 

_11/17_

 

_I wonder if you’d like Angri-La. It’s still cold, but a different cold then Sniflheim. The mountain air is refreshing, instead of just a constant, bitterly freezing wind off the water._

_I’ve got a whole stack of letters with your name on them in my pack, but no idea where to send them. Every day the pile gets bigger._

_But as I think I’ve mentioned before, I’m on Mount Pang Lai for the next few months, as all good boys of Drasilian royalty are meant to do. If I’d come here as a kid, I would have stayed for years. I probably would have been a completely different person - a whole lot more tranquil, or whatever. Less anxious, at least. Meditation will do that to you._

_As it happens, Grand Master Pang invited me for a more condensed version of her training. It’s weird - the last time I met her, she was dead - but if anything, it's a reminder that, despite all that went wrong when I went back in time, a lot of things went right. She’s not the only person who’s alive today because of what’s changed, and I just...it helps. I’m meant to help people, and even though I failed you, even though I won’t forgive myself for that, I did save some lives. The other world I left behind was a much darker place, even though I had a great light._

_Now I live in a place darker for your absence, but the world is brighter, and that’s far more important than just me._

_In other news, Pang made me cut my hair._

_I’m not bald or anything, it’s just...shorter. I don’t like it._

_If I could guess, you’re not in Sniflheim anymore. We didn’t stay there long when we went back to get Mia, and I can imagine the same restlessness driving the two of you away from the snow this time, too. When I close my eyes I can see you on the ocean, the wind in your hair and the sun in your eyes, and your sister leaning over the railing to look at the water, almost far enough to fall. She was wild like that, and I doubt that’s changed. Or maybe you’re in town somewhere, showing her things we saw on our travels, taking her to places we’ve walked before. Sometimes I wish I had an ounce of artistic ability so I could paint the pictures a little more clearly, make the memories a little less blurry around the edges. So I could see you again, in full color._

_I’ll hold onto these letters a while longer. I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. I hope you’re having fun. I prefer to remember you laughing instead of looking the way you did when I saw you last._

 

_My best,_

_Rowan_

* * *

 

_12/30_

 

_Winter in Angri-La was a shit idea._

_We spend hours out in the Field of Discipline (I’ve taken to calling it the Field of Verbal Abuse). She makes me meditate for hours with snow up to my ass, and I swear I nearly lost one of my toes to frostbite._

_I never thought I’d miss the dreams. One thing I guess you should know is that ever since I went back to the day before Yggdrasil Part Two I started sharing dreams with someone...I figure it was just someone nearby. It happened with Serena, Veronica, even Jasper, when I was in the dungeon. There was that one time with the Seer I’ve never been able to sort out, but most of the time, it was you._

_Makes sense, I guess. You and I were always closest._

~~_You know, physically. Proximitally. I don’t think that’s a word. I’m messing this up_ ~~

_More often than not it was your dreams I shared, and while it was a sort of torture at the time, I miss them now._

_You remembered everything in those dreams. Everything that happened before, and after. You remembered me, and us._

_Sometimes I worry I’m going to go insane one day, with all these mixed up memories in my head - the first timeline, after it, what happened in dreams versus what went on while I was awake…_

_It’s enough to drive anyone mad, but it was one of the last dreams with you that was definitely the worst. I dreamed that you burned up in a volcano, that you died in the fire - you might remember that night, you might not, but when I woke up I nearly projectile vomited all over the floor and then proceeded to run away, so it might stick out as an evening I acted particularly nuts. She said I might start having dreams of the future, and It was too much like what happened with Hendrik for me to ignore it. The Seer also told me one day I’d probably have to pay for all of the lives I saved. Forgive me, but I wasn’t willing to let the price be you._

_I miss you a hell of a lot, you know. I miss my best friend. I miss sitting around at campfires and laughing, just talking to you. I miss those things even more than I missed the rest before. I would rather have you with me and give up all the other stuff than to never get to see you at all._

_Shit, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying not to be so whiny in these letters, but I do a terrible job, I’m sure._

~~_Good thing they’ve only ever seen the inside of my pack_ ~~

_With every day that passes, I guess I lose any hope of ever sending them. It’s probably for the best - you probably don’t want to hear from me. But sending them to you would require knowing where you are, and, well. If I knew where you were, I doubt I possess the self-control it would take to stop me from going._

 

_Rowan_

* * *

 

_3/21_

 

_It’s Equinox day apparently whichis a thing the people here celebrate. I shouldwarn you I have had a bit to drink,_

_The baker here in angri-La makes the best muffins You’d love them. He’s from the Hotto and he helped me write you some haikus_

 

_I was a liar_

_Now you have forsaken me_

_Never to return_

 

_A runaway thief_

_has absconded with my heart_

_Now I go without_

 

_The sky is darker_

_Without the colors of you_

_To lighten it up_

 

~~_I miss you I wish you’d come back please I’ll tell you everything you want to know, if you come back even for a minute_ ~~

 

_((this letter appears to be heavily wrinkled, as though it has been crumpled up and flattened back out many times. There is a hastily scrawled note on the back that states ‘Do NOT send ever’ ))_

* * *

 

_5/11_

 

_I’m back in Dundrasil. It’s a remarkably different place than the one I left in the fall. The castle is mostly finished - I have my own WING, if you can believe it. You’d love it, it’s way too lavish for one person (or ten, really) and the floor is made from this polished stone. I swear I’m going to break my neck one day when it’s wet._

_Rab’s been spreading the word around, and slowly but surely, some people are coming back. I guess those who survived the night Dundrasil fell never forgot where they came from. I suppose that’s what most everyone wants, really - just to find a place they can call home._

_I like it here. It’s not too hot or cold, just...nice. I think I could stay here awhile._

_I might have to, honestly. Rab’s taking up his old mantle of King - he says being a retired monarch isn’t worth much when his homeland could use someone to bring it back to glory. He’d rather restore it. I think it helps him feel close to my mother and father, lets him pay some debt he’s been carrying on his shoulders ever since the night they died and he lived. However it goes, I hope it makes him happy._

_But he wants me to formally accept the title of Prince. He’s gentle about it, doesn’t push, but I know he wants to leave it all to me one day._

_It’s absolutely horrifying. But...I might do it._

_I don’t know what to do anymore otherwise. The world doesn’t seem to need a Luminary (right now, at least - knock on wood) and while Jade’s been telling me for months now I can live my own life, that I can live for me, I just...don’t know how._

_The thing is though, I like helping people. Maybe that_ _is_ _something I can do for me. That’s not so awful, is it? I don’t know if I could make a halfway decent King one day, but I want to help, and maybe that’s somewhere to start._

_I hope you and Mia are going on all sorts of adventures. Maybe one day you’ll pass through here, see what’s grown out of all the destruction and rubble. Maybe I can help turn it into something you can be proud of me for._

 

_Fondly,_

_Rowan_

* * *

 

_6/09_

 

_It’s been about three hundred and four days since you left, you know._

_That’s a weird number for me to deal with. It’s not quite a year - getting close, certainly, but not there yet. So I can’t say you’ve been gone for an entire year, but 304 feels like a lot. It’s significant, somehow. You left at the end of summer and now summer’s coming around again. Jade still tells me you’ll be back, as do both Veronica and Serena, even Sylv, but here’s the thing. They’ve already lost their stupid bet. Jade swore up and down you’d turn right around after you hit Sniflheim, that you and Mia would find me before two months passed. Veronica gave you more time - about six months - but that’s long gone, too. Me, I’m pretty sure you’re not coming back. I don’t know why I can’t say it for certain, whether it’s delusion or hope or faith or that damned unbreakable red thread that keeps me going, but while I’ve wished on every single star for three hundred and four days that on one of them you would come back to me, no one has answered me yet and a large part of me knows you won’t._

_I certainly didn’t give you many reasons to, but either way, I’ve realized some things._

_I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. That’s not new, but maybe I should have anyway - maybe things would have turned out better. You’ve always been the one I tell everything to, the one I could trust with anything, and I was so stupid to not realize I was stomping all over that. Things would have been easier for both of us if I could have just let you in._

_I’m sorry for the way things ended up between us. I’m so sorry for so many things. But you know what? I’m not sorry for saving your life. I could never be sorry for that, and I’ll tell you why._

_Right or wrong (and believe me, I do know it was wrong), there were a thousand ways for you to die that day on the volcano. It was always a maybe, a twist that might have lay ahead, and that’s not something I could risk. It’s not something I will ever be able to risk. The day I willingly gamble with your life is the day I cease existing._

_Here’s the thing - I know you’re angry with me. I know I deserve it, and that’s something I’m sorry for, too. I even know that I handled it badly, that putting you to sleep was a terrible thing to do. I didn’t think I had much of a choice - not an excuse, I can’t excuse it - but I just, I didn’t think I had a choice, Erik, and your life means too much to me to play fast and loose with consequences I couldn’t control. I’m sorry for all of it, I’d say it as many times as you wanted to hear it, but I can’t bring myself to be sorry for saving you._

_Because you’re out there somewhere with your sister, who you never thought you’d get the chance to see again. You get to watch her grow up. You get to enjoy your life, find a home, fall in love (damn if that’s not the worst thing I’ve ever written in my life, but if that’s what you wanted, I want it for you, too). Because even though you’re gone, maybe forever, you are still_ _living_ _. Once, I would have given anything just to know that._

_I’ve lost you before, you see - in a different time, a different circumstance, I lost you. Back then, I would have burned the world down to find you. I’d have traded my limbs, my life, just for a sign you were alive, somewhere in the wide-open world between us._

_At least now, this time, I know it. Even if you never come back, I know you’re okay. That can be enough._

_You and I, we share the same sky. No one can take that away from me. The same sun lights our days, and at night, I know that no matter where you are, you track the same stars, you pick out the same constellations._

_You won’t remember this, but you showed me most of them, once._

_So there was a time when I didn’t know whether you lived or if you’d died - it made me crazy wondering - but this time, I do know. I just know that I would not truly live another moment past your last breath, so that with every breath I take, you must take one somewhere, too._

_What I did in the church that morning was selfish. I should have done anything else - told you the truth, begged, cried, whatever - but I did the fastest, easiest thing to save your life, and while I thought at the time it was the only thing I could do, I do know it wasn’t right. If it helps, I’m paying for my choices now. I think this might even be the price the Seer warned me of, but I have been paying it, and I’ll continue to, every day. If that’s it, if this is the cost and it means I go without but you keep your life, I will bear missing you._

_When I said I owed you in that first letter I wrote so long ago, what I didn’t tell you was this: when you love someone, really and truly, I think you owe them your best. You may have awful days, everyone does, but when you’re in love, I think you owe them the absolute best love you have to give. Once, I like to think I was pretty good at that. But that month before you left, all those thirty-something days when I was keeping secrets, pushing you away, hurting you, I messed up so many times. I loved you so badly._

_I guess I never got around to filling you in on that, huh? I told you too late, but I like to think that once, you knew it._

_So for the past three hundred and four days I’ve counted the stars, and I’ll do so for the next three hundred and four, too. I’ll whisper your name to the wind and hope it carries my words all the way to where you are, somehow. I’ll trace the patterns in the night sky the same way you taught me, and I’ll live, because you do. I’ve loved you for every day that’s passed, and I’ll love you for every day that comes after, until the sun dies away and the numbered stars all fade, and probably even longer than that. I got the second chance that I once never thought I would: I figured out how to make you laugh, fully and freely. I won your smiles, and I treasured each one._

_Erik, I want you to know that it was such an honor to be loved by you. I’ve never been so lucky, and I doubt I ever will be again, but once, I knew what it was to be loved, really and truly, and no one in this world loves the way you do. That’ll be the memory I keep with me from here on out._

_And for one last time, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel like you could ever be anything less than everything to me._

 

_All my love,_

_Rowan, Crown Prince of Dundrasil_

* * *

* * *

 

He heard footsteps in the hall, heels clicking on the stone as they drew closer to his room. Carefully, Rowan placed a wrinkled piece of parchment back into his top desk drawer, where many similar such papers rested in a stack. With a loud sigh and limbs weary from over-training, he sank down into his chair as a face appeared in his open doorway.

Jade peered in at him, her dark hair swishing around her like a curtain. “Oh, good. You’re decent, then.”

“If you consider ‘decent’ to mean that some of my blood is still inside my body and I’m not entirely one giant bruise, then yeah, I guess.”

He heard the quick huff of her laugh. “I meant dressed and not still drenched in sweat, actually.”

“I swear Jasper runs me ragged on purpose. What I was thinking when I suggested he should help with training here, I couldn’t tell you,” Rowan grumbled, letting his head tip back to rest on the chair as his eyes fell closed. “I could use a nap.”

“You could take a nap,” Jade agreed, “or you could come with me. Word is you have some guests at the gates.”

It was something in her tone, Rowan thought, something careful and meaningful that made his heart skip before picking up once more at a much faster rate. Something weighted in her words that made his breaths shallow. He swallowed, throat working for a moment before he could find his voice. “Guests?” he echoed.

“Two,” Jade told him, breaking out into the smallest of smiles. She looked _smug,_ and he couldn’t quite find enough air. “But one in particular is asking for you.”


	15. 14: Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well here we go, this one is looong and I struggled with it for days until I finally got it somewhere near where I wanted it. It's one of those chapters you know from the beginning is going to be A Big One and when you get there, you feel like you're never going to write it as well as you thought it, so to speak. Either way, I hope you guys enjoy. As always, thank you for reading.

* * *

 

_Chapter 14: Home_

 

_Broken stones, broken lightning_

_This house of doubt is all we know._

_Chasing down the silver linings_

_Of wounded minds and wounded souls_

_We are coming home, we are coming home._

* * *

 

_Before_

 

It was warmer inside the church. Only a little, though.

Erik shuffled across the stones towards the altar, trying to wiggle some life back into nearly frozen toes. He’d needed new shoes for a while, but Mia also needed a new coat.

He could wait.

The priest heard his scuffling and turned. For a moment, he looked surprised to see him. After a second he plastered on a grin that tried too hard and aimed it down his way. “Erik! Good to see you, my boy.”

Erik didn’t have the time or inclination for pleasantries.

“It’s almost winter again, I-” Erik bit his lip. He slipped his hands out of his pockets and frowned down at his cracked and blistered palms. He had to be careful not to clench them into fists, or else he’d draw blood again. “I’m worried about my sister. You said you’d find us a home, _Sir_ ,” he added, remembering a little late the manners his mother had tried so hard to instill. He turned pleading eyes upwards. “Please.”

The priest frowned before quickly trying to replace it with another smile. Erik wasn’t fooled. He knew well what _that_ look on a grown-up meant - guilt. He knew the faces they usually made when they were preparing to lie to a child.

Even at only nine years old, Erik’s lie detector was practically infallible.

“I did try Erik, and I’ll keep asking. But I’m afraid there’s no one here that I believe would be a good fit.”

Another lie, he knew. His skinny shoulders slumped in defeat.

It wasn’t that no one was a good fit. When the temperatures plummeted and the sun disappeared for months, anyone with a hearth would be a _good fit._ Erik knew the truth for what it was: quite simply, no one _wanted_ them.

“Maybe if you were to leave Mia with me, I could find someone to take her in for a while. It’s easier, when they’re younger-”

“No,” Erik said hastily. “No, I can’t leave her. She’d be alone, she’d hate me.”

The priest’s eyes crinkled. “She would forgive you, of course. But sometimes things that seem like the wrong decisions are actually the right ones.”

His mother had used her last breath to beg him to take care of his sister. She was his responsibility, and he couldn’t imagine handing her off to someone else.

Though they weren’t living well, they _were_ living, and besides, Mia was the only person left in the world who loved him. She looked at him like he bid the sun to rise in the morning and hung the moon at night. She would never, _ever_ forgive him if he left her behind.

“If you find us a home,” Erik said, his words weighed down with a weariness beyond his years, “you know where I’ll be.”

Without another word, he spun around on his heel and left.

He stepped outside, shoulders bunching up against the harsh wind. A couple steps below him, Mia was humming, systematically shredding the petals from a snowbell. He hopped down the two stairs to her side and noticed the slight shivers wracking her thin frame.

Her jacket was nearly as threadbare as his own, and she’d just about outgrown it to boot. With a small sigh, Erik shed his coat from his shoulders and wrapped it around his sister, barely noticing the bite of the cold on his skin. He’d find her a new one soon, he swore, even if he had to snag one from a clothesline.

Mia spun around, her mouth broadening into a quick grin. She was missing a front tooth. “Hi,” she held up the massacred flower for him to see. “I made wishes.”

Something in his stomach hurt. He took her hands in both of his and balled them up before blowing on them, offering what little warmth he had left. “Cool. We’ve gotta head back to the boat now, though.”

Her smile faded, eyebrows dropping low over blue eyes as her lips pursed in a pout. “I don’t _want_ to.”

“Yeah, I know,” Erik told her, rubbing some heat back into her fingers even as his own hands ached from the friction. “Me either.”

He didn’t want to go back to the Viking ship, where he’d have to stow his sister away somewhere to keep her out of sight, where he worked until his hands bled and longer still. He didn’t want to go back to their cave, to go to bed with a mostly empty belly and wake up in the morning to do it all again.

But he was all Mia had, and though the Vikings didn’t care a bit for either of them, at least they had some food, and a blanket to share between the two of them. At least they weren’t alone.

“Come on, Mia,” Erik tugged her to her feet. When he looked down at his hands, he saw some of her flower petals had transferred, stuck to his skin.

He stared at them and wondered what he’d even wish for, if he still believed in such things. He cast a glare over his shoulder at the church before shaking the petals to the ground.

Erik didn’t think they needed someone to love them. They just needed a place to call home; but no one was coming to the rescue, and no one cared what happened to them, not really.

Erik tucked his little sister against his side and trudged back towards the docks as the wind whipped around them, and wondered if he would ever be able to offer her anything better.

* * *

* * *

 

Waves lapped against the hull of the _Stallion_ as they cut a path through the water. The breeze that played through his hair was still warm despite the nightfall. With no trace of a chill in the air, he knew they weren’t anywhere close to the Northern Waters just yet.

Erik stared out at the darkening horizon and rested his chin on his arms over the railing.

“You know, you guys make brooding look like fun, honestly. You’re making me think I should try it sometime, but I’m just not sure I’ve got the right amount of angst. I don’t think I’d nail the ‘no one understands my life’ look.”

“Funny,” Erik said dryly. He didn’t turn around. “You should take that act on the road.”

Next to him, Veronica reached up to grab the railing. She stepped onto one of the higher rungs so her head drew level with Erik’s. “I might, now that my crime-fighting days are behind me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up against his will. He didn’t let it spread all the way into a smile. “I thought you got seasick.”

“Don’t remind me. I figured I’d try getting some fresh air. It always worked for Rowan.”

Something in Erik’s chest tightened. He grimaced.

Veronica frowned at him. When she spoke again, all traces of her earlier teasing had vanished. “You don’t have to go, you know. No one’s making you.”

“Well, I’ve got this thing called a sister. I figured you’d know, considering you _also_ have one you’ve had to chase down before.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut it. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”.

“You don’t think I’m doing the right thing,” Erik said. It wasn’t a question.

“Oh, absolutely not. I think you’re an idiot. This might actually be the dumbest thing you’ve done to date,” she explained. “But I guess you’ve always been a bit slow, so I suppose you’ll take your time figuring it all out, won’t you?”

Erik scowled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know a bit more than you think I do,” Veronica hummed. “I know something happened and you’re running away because that’s your move. I don’t know, maybe he hurt your feelings, but really Erik, jumping ship and fleeing the city seems a bit extreme.”

“That’s not it,” Erik grumbled, feeling heat flood his cheeks. “Or, that’s not _all_ of it.”

He didn’t want to talk about it, about Rowan. He certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Veronica, who held the Luminary up on a pedestal so high he was likely unable to see the ground. The last thing Erik wanted to put words to was the pathetic story of how a world-wise thief had let his guard down _once_ for a boy from the middle of nowhere, only to have his heart broken so thoroughly for his efforts.

There must have been a particularly telling amount of misery on his face, for instead of biting back, Veronica reached up to pet him on the head as though he were an unhappy cat. “Of course not,” she said, “if it were simple, you wouldn’t have left.”

He swatted her hand away. “You know, I really don’t remember asking for your opinion-”

“Just don’t take too long to sort it out, yeah?” She spoke over him, putting on a brilliant smile as she hopped down to the deck. “I’ve got coin riding on this.”

“I bet you do,” he muttered as she walked away. He cast his eyes back up to the sky and tried to find pictures in the stars.

Try as he might, he couldn’t quite pick them out the way he used to.

* * *

 

“Grab whatever you don’t want to leave behind,” Erik told his sister as he slung his own bag over one shoulder. “If I ever see this hole again, it’ll be too soon.”

He could just barely see Mia roll her eyes. It only made him smirk. She’d clung to him like a burr the moment he’d found her in Sniflheim, but some things never changed completely, it seemed.

Erik was glad. He’d missed her, thorns and all.

“You’re so sure we’ll never be back,” Mia argued, slipping little odds and ends into a satchel. Most of it was junk, broken things and litter, but what others had considered trash, two children claimed as treasure. “But we always did end up right here, every time.”

There was still an old, sagging mattress in one corner. The salvaged table still had broken legs and shims to keep it standing. The ground was still covered in a layer of dust that, along with the constant chill, had led to an unshakable cough for both of them. The cave looked much as it had the last time Erik set foot in it, save the golden statue of his sister in the center, and the one-time presence of the only other person he’d ever let inside.

Everything in him was screaming to leave.

“Do you want to come back?” Erik asked, idly picking up an old, ratty shirt of Mia’s before casting it aside. He’d buy her something newer, something _nicer._

“Well, no,” Mia conceded. She wrapped her fingers around an ugly, handmade doll comprised of scraps of cloth, straw, and prayers; he recognized it, as he was the one who made it for her. Erik watched as she pressed it to her heart before tucking it inside her bag. His stomach twisted into a knot.

“Then we won’t,” he told her, firm and sure. Nothing tied them there. They were free now, and they would do better the second time around.

_He_ would do better.

“Yeah?” she asked, finally getting back to her feet and crossing the hovel to join him.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” Erik slung an arm over her shoulders, and it was a clear sign to how much she’d missed him when instead of pulling away, she burrowed in closer.

They walked out into the snow side by side. Erik didn’t once look back on the place they’d stayed for years. It had never really been a home, after all.

* * *

 

For a time, they ended up in Octogonia. Mia wanted to see the Masked Martial Arts tournament, wanted to watch the fights and learn to pick pockets while she was at it. He caved and taught her a handful of tricks, but Erik found quickly that his heart wasn’t in it.

Truly, it might never have been, but it was much harder to steal when things were so freely given away instead. Everywhere they went, if it was a place he’d been before, he was recognized - only not as a thief.

Many people, it seemed, remembered the Luminary’s right-hand man.

Street vendors just _gave_ him things. The proprietor of the Inn fussed over the pair of them like they were small children. Everyone wanted to earn his favor, because they appeared to believe that, in turn, they’d earn Rowan’s.

Before the week was out, Erik insisted on leaving Octogonia, dragging his reluctant sister with him. He’d spent far too long in the dark to be stuck in a tower, cut off from the sun. He was surprised by how much he’d grown to crave the light.

During a quick respite in their journey back towards the sea, at a small, tucked away camp, Mia flopped down to the earth beside him while he stroked one of his blades over a whetstone.

“When are we going to go see Rowan?”

Erik’s hand slipped. He nearly lost a finger.

Mia had the decency to look abashed while he cursed up a storm and sucked the wounded digit into his mouth. His expression soured further at the taste of blood. She handed over a cloth and he accepted it, wrapping it around the cut.

“ _What_ was that?” he asked. He kept his eyes down as he returned his knife to its scabbard.

“Rowan,” Mia repeated. There was that _pang_ again, a broken piece shifting around and slicing through him like glass. “I figured we’d explore a bit, but eventually we’ll go back to your friends, right? Especially the Luminary?”

“Why?” his voice sounded high pitched and suspicious to even his own ears. He tried again, desperate to regain some of his cool. “I mean, is that what you want to do?”

Mia was staring at him, brows lowered. “Sure? I thought you’d miss him - all of them.”

His heart hurt. _Pathetic._

“I do,” Erik said quietly, tossing his whetstone back into his pack; perhaps too roughly, as it bounced off and landed a foot away. “Yeah, I miss them. But I wasn’t - well, I wasn’t planning on going back to Row-” his heartbeat was an angry thud, that spot all the more tender than it was even moments before. “I mean, I don’t know where he is, anyway.”

She looked at him the way she used to, as though his sanity was a constant concern to her. “Okay...I just thought he was your best bud, your comrade, brother in arms, whatever dumb shit boys say.” She waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal. You can stop looking like you’re gonna be sick.”

Mia saw too much. He’d nearly forgotten that about her.

“I’m fine,” Erik said, gruff and impatient. “He was. But-”

_He didn’t need me._

_He didn’t want me._

_He didn’t trust me._

_I left._

Erik grimaced. Rowan had been the one to leave him first - he’d left him asleep in the back of a church and gone off to risk his life alone, left Erik to wake up afraid, left him to seek Rowan out only to find him broken. He’d left him to think, even for a moment, that Rowan might be dead. Rowan had left him _first_. He could tell himself that every morning, every night before he closed his eyes, and as long as he did, he could keep that damned groundless guilt at bay.

But he remembered other things, too. Erik remembered frantic whispers, a pleading _‘ask me again tomorrow,’_ a begging _‘do you still trust me?’_ as if the world’s turning depended on it, and a most desperate, _‘I’m trying to keep you safe,’_ and he’d _tried,_ dammit, he’d tried so hard to hold onto that faith he’d promised once, but...well, Erik wondered if maybe faith only survived when one’s eyes were wide open rather than shut.

Still, when all was quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, Erik could see him so clearly. In those last few days before Mount Huji, and even earlier still, Rowan had been scared.

_A better comrade. A better brother._ Not words he would have chosen, but Mia had, and he’d heard them from someone else not so long ago. _To a degree, we are responsible for those around us._

Erik didn’t know how much he believed that, but maybe he did a little, for the ones he cared about most. Maybe he should have tried harder to find out what had put that terrified look in Rowan’s eyes, maybe not, but it was too late to go back now.

Erik shook his head. His bruises were still too fresh, too raw, and he wore his own hurts like armor. When he looked up, Mia was still watching him, a perplexed look on her face.

“It’s nothing,” Erik finished hastily. He went down to his knees in front of their makeshift fire pit and shoved twigs into the long-cooled embers with unnecessary force. “Hey, go find some more wood, okay?”

“It’s not even cold,” Mia pointed out.

“Well it might be later,” Erik insisted, shooing her away. “Don’t go far.”

Mia’s muttered _“whatever”_ preceded her stomping off into the dark.

He’d wanted a moment of quiet, a chance to pull himself together. The second he got it, he wanted his sister to come back.

Once, Erik had been so accustomed to being alone that he’d never realized just how lonely he’d been all along. He hadn’t noticed how much he appreciated having someone always at his side until the moment he was no longer there.

* * *

 

“What are you doing?”

Mia froze. She spun around slowly, her expression one she’d perfected long ago - guilt tempered with defiance, both in equal measure. She had his daggers in her hands.

Erik took one step into their room at the Warrior’s Rest before propping his shoulder against the door frame. He arched one eyebrow, a silent question as much as it was a reprimand. Mia scowled.

“I was just trying them out,” she insisted. With a heavy, put-upon sigh, she shoved the knives back into their sheaths. “You won’t let me have my own.”

She’d been asking for weeks, and he had to admit, the idea horrified him. Something about putting weapons in his sister’s hands was as repellent to him as if she’d asked him to shove her from the top of a cliff instead.

He was supposed to be keeping her _safe._ He’d done such a terrible job of it the first time around.

“Yeah,” Erik forced his tone to be light, “because you’d kill yourself or others. I can’t be the one responsible for turning you loose on society like that.”

Mia threw herself down onto her bed with an angry huff and rolled to face the window, clearly intent on ignoring him the rest of the night. If he knew his sister, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was even longer than that.

Erik fell back onto his own mattress, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling above.

Little moonlight filtered in through the small window. He couldn’t hear anything through the walls - cricket song, the wind rustling the grass, nothing.

After a painfully long silence, he spoke up. “Where do you want to go next?”

He was just about convinced she wouldn’t answer when she turned over to face him. “Phnom Nohn,” she said, “can we? I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Yeah,” Erik murmured, letting his eyes fall closed. Another place he’d been before, another town he’d walked with someone else at his side. One more Inn where he’d shared a room and fallen asleep to the sound of another person’s breathing. Maybe if he and Mia ran around the world long enough, he could rewrite his memories until they no longer scrolled across the forefront of his mind, until they couldn’t seep into his bones and ache any longer. “Yeah, we can head that way in the morning.”

Mia smiled at him, a bright and carefree thing, his earlier offense clearly forgiven. “Thanks.”

The gratitude felt heavier than it ought to, and he wondered - not for the first time- what he’d really done to earn it. He’d failed her so many times, in so many ways, and was terrified he would only do it again in the days or years to come.

Erik didn’t feel he deserved her thanks, her forgiveness, or even her love, but he’d bottle her smiles and bask in their glow. He’d do what he could to draw them out for every day that followed, and he would hold fast to the second chance he never dreamed he would receive. And when he woke up each morning, he’d try with everything he had to not think about the one who gave it to him.

* * *

 

The town of Phnom Nohn was bustling, a festival in full swing. Erik paid the noise and lights no mind as he shifted past bodies, weaving his way through the throngs of people. His eyes sought only one in particular.

“Hold a moment, young man. Why are you in such a hurry? Life’s pleasures stand still while you rush past them.”

“Not interested,” Erik muttered, still scanning the crowd. _Where the hell had Mia disappeared to so quickly?_

The gypsy caught his hand. Erik jerked to a stop and spun around, certain his frustration was evident. “Look, lady, I-”

“Too busy even for a quick reading? It won’t take but a moment of your time,” she wheedled, and Erik sighed.

He was plenty familiar with the ways of street hawkers and peddlers. He’d get away faster, he knew, if he indulged her for a minute.

She took a great interest in his palm as she turned his hand over in hers. “Tell me, handsome one, have you ever been in love?”

Her tone was easy, conversational, but her words stirred something in him; all too easily Erik found himself thinking of eyes the precise color of the sky before a storm and a smile that was slow to start but quick to spread, one that could light the world for all its warmth. He felt the usual ache somewhere between his ribs. “No,” he said, sounding more tired than anything else, “I’ve never been in love.”

The look she shot him from beneath her lashes was skeptical. “Do you lie so often that you forget the truth?”

“Now, listen-” Erik started, affronted, but the gypsy spoke over him as her gaze on his palm grew more intense.

“You’d do well to remember that the lies we tell ourselves are harsher even than the lies we tell others. The forgiveness we seek so rarely exists in the world that surrounds us.”

“Great, I’ll keep that in mind.” Erik tugged his hand free, shoved it into his pocket to produce a copper coin. If it was what she needed to let him be, to turn him loose so he could find his wayward sister, he’d part with it.

She took his money without remorse. “You ought to,” she scolded. “You know the night so well you constantly seek light, but shadows are the one thing we cannot outrun.”

“Also dragons,” Erik told her, offering a quicksilver grin with his own impart of wisdom. “Those are pretty hard to outrun.”

Before she could detain him further, he slipped off down the nearest alley.

The woman’s words rattled around in his ears. He tried to shake them off as the crazed musings of a hedge witch, but as he slunk through passages the lantern light doubled his image on the walls around him, his own shadow ever-present and keeping pace. He forced himself to quit glancing over his shoulder and kept his eyes forward.

He couldn’t keep looking back.

Somewhere ahead, above him, lost in the multi-leveled maze of a city, he heard a female shout and the sounds of a scuffle. He took off at a sprint, fingers curling around the handle of his dagger. His heart was a wild thing behind his ribs.

Erik had learned very early in life that where his sister went, trouble often followed.

* * *

 

“What the hell were you _thinking,_ Mia?” Erik was doubled over, hands on his knees. He used every caught breath to snarl at the girl before him.

Mia sat on the ground, her mouth turned down in an angry frown. “I thought they wouldn’t see me swipe it, that’s all.”

“Huh,” Erik huffed, “and look how that turned out! They could have hurt you. Seriously Mia, you could have been killed!”

_And it would be all my fault._

All because he’d taken his eyes off her, allowed himself to be distracted for even a minute, only a second.

Panic was a living, breathing creature inside his skin. He could feel it, clawing around his lungs and squeezing his heart.

What he wouldn’t give to tuck her away somewhere, hidden and safe. She’d always been a flame, burning bright and fierce, but he’d seen before how easily she could be snuffed out.

He’d have absolutely nothing left.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. We got away,” she grumbled, waving a hand in dismissal. Erik swore he saw red.

“The big deal is that you didn’t listen to me! I told you to stay next to me, I told you not to try and steal anything tonight, I told you not to run off, I told you _not to,”_ he ground the words out, “but you never listen!”

“Yeah, maybe because you never let me do anything! You can’t just lock me up forever!” Mia hissed. “Hell, you should have just left me as a statue, right? I bet you wish you had.”

Erik’s jaw popped open. Any retort he could have fired back with dried up on his tongue and left a bitter taste behind.

He’d do anything to protect her. He’d give all his limbs, each finger and every toe, to keep her safe from further harm. For what was love, if not to value another’s life above your own?

But Mia was right. Though the intention might be pure, he knew well enough that desperation rarely led to good decisions; there was little difference between a cage and being encased in gold.

_Or a sleeping spell,_ Erik thought, unbidden.

He sank to the ground at her side and dropped his face into his hands. He _understood_ suddenly, in a way he hadn’t before.

A tentative hand came onto his shoulder. “Erik?” his sister whispered, “I didn’t really mean that, okay?”

“No,” he let out a shaky sigh and looked up. “No, it’s...you’re right, Mia.” Erik pushed his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “How about this. If I teach you to fight, to defend yourself, if I get you your own knives and show you how to use them, will you at least _try_ to listen to some of the things I say?”

Mia failed to suppress a smile and crossed her fingers over her heart. “Every word, dear brother. Every word.”

“You’re a liar,” he said, the weary affection in his voice negating any bite he had left. “But we’ll try it your way, alright? Just, maybe don’t steal from busy market stalls when there are people watching.”

She shuffled around to sit behind him, to lean her back against his and tip her face up to the night sky. “I don’t know why you’re pretending to be such a goody-goody,” she teased. “I know you used to be a thief. The pious act is pointless.”

_Used to be a thief,_ he thought. Used to be a Viking, a pirate. Used to be the Luminary’s right-hand man, his best friend, his maybe something - _no._ Erik used to be a lot of things, and once he thought he knew where he belonged.

These days he wasn’t so sure. It was slow-going, but maybe one day he’d know again. Maybe he’d have it all figured out.

Erik sighed, letting his head fall back against his sister’s. His eyes found the stars, the moon. He sought the light as always, the glow of something distant. He wondered if the day would ever come when he could reach out and touch starlight, or if he could stay nestled against the sun without burning away to nothing.

“What did you steal, anyway?” he asked.

Mia hesitated for a second before groping for his hand. She caught his fingers in hers and deposited something weighted into his palm, the metal warm and slick from where she’d held it.

Erik drew his hand back and looked down at the silver timepiece in his grasp. “Well no wonder they chased you,” he mused, watching the hands tick with the passing seconds. “This would fetch someone a fortune.”

“It’s almost your birthday,” Mia told him, and Erik blinked. “I thought you should have something nice for once.”

For a long moment, Erik couldn’t speak.

For five years he’d given it so little thought. There wasn’t much point to remembering a day when no one would be there to share in the celebration.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll sell it,” she continued, her tone souring with self-consciousness. “Give it back.”

“No,” the denial came out choked, uneven. He fastened it to his wrist and pulled his sleeve down to hide his new treasure. “No, I want it.”

“Okay then.” Mia huffed.

Erik nudged her arm with his. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she mumbled, before nestling her head back against his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d visited a campsite he recognized. It wasn’t even the second.

But for some reason he couldn’t quite put words to, on a particular night at a particular fire, it hit him harder than usual.

Once, Jade would have sat across the flames, laughing with Veronica about something she’d seen in the last town they wandered through. Serena would be reading a book with that small, ever-present smile in place. Rab would sit some short distance away, pretending for all intents and purposes to be meditating, but he’d still chime into the conversation when the mood struck him. Sylvando too would break in from time to time to regale them with a wild story until they were all in stitches.

Erik missed every single one of them, but the empty space beside him was the worst. It was the complete and utter absence of the boy he’d willingly left behind that tore open the wound he’d been slapping bandages over for months now. Out of sight was supposed to mean out of mind.

He’d tried so hard to believe that.

Sometimes he wondered if it had all been a dream. Maybe he’d always been roaming with his sister, and the time he’d spent with the others, with _him_ , had simply been in his head.

He knew that wasn’t the truth, either.

He’d known it would suck, to a point. Erik had fully expected to miss Rowan, even from the moment he left him, but he hadn’t been prepared for it _hurt_ quite as much as it did, nor for it to fester so long.

Mia was the one who sat across the fire from him now, humming to herself as she chiseled away at a small chunk of wood with the knife she’d so lovingly picked out. Erik watched the smoke rise into the dark sky before casting a glance at the trees around them. When he saw no suspicious movement - old habits died hard or not at all - he dropped his gaze to the watch around his wrist.

She’d risked so much for something so simple, just to get him a gift for a birthday he’d long forgotten about. The realization had nearly knocked him flat; had anyone asked, he likely would not have been able to provide them with a date. But Mia knew.

“Why did you forgive me?” Erik blurted out. He looked up as Mia went still, and wished he could shove the words back into his mouth the second they left him.

She glanced up from her whittling and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Erik cleared his throat. “I asked why you forgave me,” he repeated, trying and likely failing to sound nonchalant.

Mia blinked. “What kind of question is that?” She demanded, amusement in her voice. “I mean, really-”

“Forget it,” he grumbled, tossing a stick into the fire between them. “If you’re gonna be a brat about it.”

She tilted her head to one side, considering him for a moment before her expression turned serious. “If you really want to know,” she looked down at the fire, quiet for several beats. “I never really thought about it before. It’s not like it was a choice I made at some point, Erik, I just...guess I never had to. I guess once everything was said and done, I wasn’t all that mad at you for what happened, I was just glad you came back.”

Erik stared at her, frowning.

“Don’t be an idiot about it,” she told him. “I just...love you. Forgiving you wasn’t this big thing. It wasn’t an issue for me, okay? You can quit beating yourself up over it now.”

He could hear his own heartbeat, a relentless pounding in his ears. It couldn’t possibly be that simple.

_Could it?_

_The forgiveness we seek so rarely exists in the world that surrounds us._

Mia was watching him, something unexpectedly gentle in her expression. “Is that what you needed to hear, big brother?”

It took him a while to find his voice. When he did, it came out like a croak. “Need to hear for what?”

“I don’t know, to let it go, I guess. It was an accident. You were trying to give me a gift, for crying out loud. You were just a dumb kid, _I_ was just a dumb kid, it wasn’t your fault.” She dropped her eyes back down to her knife. “And anyway, you fixed it, so you can drop all that heaviness you carry around. It makes you walk like a really, _really_ old man.”

The laugh that broke free from his chest startled him, like a dam giving way. Suddenly, tears pricked the corner of his eyes, and he was horrified by the overwhelming urge to double over and cry in a way he hadn’t since he was a child.

_Wasn’t your fault._

_Wasn’t your fault._

_Wasn’t my fault._

Maybe it was, or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he could have done better, all those years ago, or maybe blame didn’t matter anymore, not really. But there was one thing Erik was certain of: he’d been holding onto his burdens for so long he’d stopped noticing when his shoulders ached from the strain, when he was being crushed beneath the load he carried. After a while, he’d simply gotten used to it.

Erik wondered what it must feel like to walk without weight.

He already felt a little lighter, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. He was mildly concerned he’d float away without something to tether him back to the earth. “Maybe,” Erik said, his voice thin. He grappled for a foothold. “What are you making, anyway?”

Mia looked down at the thing in her hands before standing up and tossing it his way, taking great care to avoid the fire. “See for yourself.”

Erik caught it in his left hand. When he uncurled his fingers, the little wooden token sat comfortably in his palm. It was mostly smooth to the touch and warm from his sister’s ministrations. In the center was a nearly perfect carving of a sigil that, though his sister could only have seen it once or twice, Erik would know anywhere. 

The Mark of Light, the very same as the one that adorned the back of Rowan’s left hand.

“Oh,” Erik said. He ran one finger over the careful lines and curves, feeling like the breath had been knocked from his lungs.

“You can keep it, or not.” Mia shrugged, an absent-minded motion, but her gaze on him was far too shrewd. “It’s up to you.”

Erik stared down at it for a moment more before closing his fingers, holding it tight in a clasped hand. He closed his eyes and pressed his fist to his forehead.

He could still remember the way Rowan had looked at him, in the moments before he’d fallen under a magic sleep. Rowan looked like everything he had inside had splintered apart at once. Every bone, every muscle, every vein shattered like glass, to dust.

Erik opened his eyes. He stared into the fire and let his hand come to rest against his mouth.

He remembered Rowan kneeling before an altar, frozen to the stones, praying for forgiveness in an empty church. He likely hadn’t found it yet, and that, at least, was something Erik knew too well. It wasn’t a burden he would wish upon anyone else.

He wasn’t so angry, anymore. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his grip on it, let it go to the wind.

More than anything, Erik just missed him.

He pressed the Luminary token over the thud of his heart.

Mia was watching him, but pretending not to. “So, as much as I love sleeping outside, are we ever going to, you know, find somewhere to settle down? Somewhere we might want to stay?”

_Somewhere we might want to stay,_ Erik thought. There’d only ever been one place he’d felt the urge to stay; a safe harbor he would have willingly tied himself to, and one he’d missed after he was gone. It wasn’t actually a _place_ at all.

_If you ever need to come home, you find me._

It was not so unlike the turn of a long-missing key in a lock, the clicks of pins and tumblers sliding into place. The tightness in his ribs didn’t quite go slack, but it did loosen, infinitesimally.

“Yeah,” Erik said slowly, before offering up a smile. No weight, no shadows, only light. “I think I know where we can go.”

* * *

_Postmarked from Arboria, 6/15_

_Dearest Idiot of Mine,_

 

_So nice to hear from you. It’s only been, what, almost an entire year? We’d all figured you dead in a ditch, but nevermind pleasantries, you can only be bothered to come to me with questions. I see how it is. Some people have a lot of nerve and not much else._

_You. I’m talking about you._

_Also, while we’re on the subject, I must say I’m a little peeved at you for leaving him like that. Jade’s told me a bit about what’s been going on with Rowan all these months since we parted. His letters have not been very telling - we all know he’d pretend he was fine even if fire was raining from the sky - but she’s got the real story, or most of it, I imagine. Ditching him wasn’t a very ‘partners til the end, I’ve got your back forever’ type of thing to do, you know._

_But I love you too, you great stupid buffoon, so it’s okay. The Goddess only knows the true levels of brooding you’ve managed to reach since we saw each other last, and since I cannot bear to be the cause of more sulking, I’ll tell you what you want to know. If you can actually take the bloody time to stick around and wait for this reply to reach you, that is._

_Our beloved Luminary is back where he started, believe it or not._

_Dundrasil. He’s in Dundrasil._

_Run, run, run._

_Honestly, I might not even mind seeing you, when we make it there next month as well._

 

_Talk soon,_

_Veronica_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there we have it, we've reached the end of our time skip and maybe next week we'll even see a reunion? Mwah anyway I love you guys, smooches.


	16. 15: Arms Unfolding

* * *

 

_Chapter 15: Arms Unfolding_

 

_Yes, these new walls are pretty hard to crack_

_And it might take a while until I trust you on the tackle_

_I apologize but it was only self defense_

_Running away just made sense_

_But here I am with arms unfolding, I guess it isn‘t quite the end_

_Oh, partner in crime_

_I'm going to try to fall in love with you again_

* * *

_After_

 

It was the middle of Rowan’s favorite kind of afternoon - warm enough for comfort, but cloudy with the promise of a later summer storm. The old tree at his back creaked when the wind blew through it and he could smell the sea in the air. There was a book open in his right hand, his left tangled in Erik’s hair while he slept. He even seemed to be drooling a bit on Rowan’s thigh.

Erik looked serene in a way he rarely did while he was awake. His fingers weren’t anywhere near his knife; something Rowan took as a great personal victory. He skimmed his fingertips softly over Erik’s forehead before turning his attention back to his book.

To his thinking, there were few better ways to pass a couple of hours.

“Is he asleep?”

Rowan glanced up as Mia drew nearer. She sounded incredulous but had the courtesy to keep her voice low.

He smiled slightly. “Yeah. Why, did you need something?”

Mia’s eyebrows drew together, her lips pursing in a contemplative frown. She seemed to deliberate a moment longer before saying, “I was gonna ask if I could run down the hill, back to Puerto Valor. It’s not far,” she said slowly, “and there was something cool in the shop the other day. I’m going to see if it’s still there.”

Rowan hesitated. She’d phrased it so carefully in a way that suggested she didn't think she needed Rowan’s permission, and perhaps she didn’t. He wasn’t her brother, after all.

But he didn’t want Erik to wake up and be angry with him for turning her loose, either.

“Are you going to steal it?” he asked.

Mia scowled. “That’s not a very nice assumption to make.”

“And that’s not a no,” Rowan retorted, before offering a conspiratorial grin. “Tell you what, if you promise to come right back and stay out of trouble, you can take this-” he shifted slightly, just enough to free his coin purse from his belt. He tossed it her way. “You can get whatever it is you wanted from the shop. Within reason!” he added hastily, watching as her eyes lit up when she realized what she’d caught.

“Absolutely! Thanks, Rowan!”

She was gone with his coin before he could second guess his decision.

“Oh well,” he muttered, returning to the book in his grasp.

He let his other hand drift to Erik’s back, absently running his palm over the slopes of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. After several minutes, he glanced down and realized Erik’s eyes were open. He was watching with a lazy sort of peace in his expression, an utter contentedness Rowan rarely got to see on him.

Rowan grinned and swept his hand back through Erik’s hair. “Hi.”

“What are you reading?” Erik asked, in that sleepy, sandpaper voice that made Rowan’s toes curl inside his boots.

He blinked. “Oh. Just some theology book Serena lent me. This one story is stupid, though.”

Erik raised an eyebrow in a silent invitation for him to go on.

“Well it talks about some old guy’s idea that we’re all split by Yggdrasil at birth, that for every man there’s a woman with the other half of their soul, but-” Rowan felt his cheeks flush. “That’s ridiculous I think, because what if you don’t like women, then what? You just don’t get a soulmate?”

He expected Erik to tease him for being bothered by something he read in a book. Instead, Erik stretched out, working the kinks from his spine before looking back up at him. “The red thread myth is better.”

“The what?”

It was Erik’s turn to look embarrassed. The tips of his ears turned red in the way that always made Rowan want to run his fingertips over them. He indulged himself while Erik continued.

“It’s, uh, just a story I heard when I was running around on my own. They say that soulmates are tied at the ankles or whatever with a red string, and it’s supposed to be unbreakable. I don’t know.”

Rowan tried very hard not to smile. “You must have liked it, to remember it so well.”

“I mean, I didn’t, really. I might have just thought about it recently,” he grumbled, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s all stupid, anyway.”

Rowan stayed quiet for a moment and watched Erik’s face change - old hints of uncertainty, of self-consciousness, still lingered. After a moment Rowan set his book down and touched his hand to a spot on his own chest, right below his ribs. “I don’t know about my ankle. I think mine’s tied right here.”

Erik stared up at him. Something in his expression went very soft, very warm. It was a look Rowan wanted to see on him for every remaining day of their lives. “Yeah?”

Rowan nodded, solemn. “That’s where I feel it. Whenever you’re gone, or if I’m worried about you, I feel it right there.”

Erik was still looking at him with that same awe on his face, and Rowan couldn’t help but wonder if no one in the world had ever said something similar to him, if no one had ever told Erik... _something._

Something like _I love you._

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to tell him.

“Come here,” Erik mumbled. He sat up just enough to tug Rowan down with him into the grass. In the shade of a tree that had been there far longer than they had, Erik kissed him, deep and reverent; under thick branches that would continue to grow even after they were gone, Rowan held onto him as he’d never held onto another before.

He wanted to tell him he loved him, but Erik, he knew, was slower to hand over his heart. Rowan was pretty sure he held it. He could feel it, in the way it pounded under his hand like it was trying to break free of its confines and leap into his palm, but it was often better to test the waters before diving in. He could be patient.

“Your sister went to Puerto Valor, by the way,” Rowan murmured.

Erik groaned. He flopped back into the grass and threw an arm up over his face.

Rowan propped his chin up in his hand on Erik’s chest and looked at him with an adoring smile.

“Why are you thinking about my sister while I’m kissing you? Now _I’m_ thinking about her. You ruined it,” Erik complained.

Rowan’s smile only widened. “I just thought I should tell you before we got distracted.”

“I was already distracted,” he said, bitter.

_I love you._

“Sorry,” Rowan told him instead, tracing a finger over the laces of Erik’s tunic.

“Why did she go into town? We were just there yesterday.”

Rowan shrugged. “She wanted something from the shop, so I gave her my coin purse.”

Erik moved his arm away from his eyes. He blinked at him, mouth agape, before throwing his head back with an unrestrained laugh. “You- you gave Mia all your money? Rowan, seriously -” he broke off and shook his head, still snickering. “You’re going to be dead broke by the time we find her.”

“Then I guess you’ll just owe me.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How do you plan to collect?”

Unable to stop his smile, Rowan leaned forward to close the space between them, reclaiming Erik’s lips and savoring his laughter.

_I love you._

He wanted to tell him, but they had plenty of time enough left for that.

* * *

* * *

 

_“Guests?” Rowan echoed._

_“Two,” Jade told him, breaking out into the smallest of smiles. She looked almost smug, and he couldn’t quite find enough air. “But one in particular is asking for you.”_

 

“You’re not-” Rowan started, his voice shaking. He stopped and cleared his throat before trying again, making an honest effort to sound as if his world _hadn’t_ turned upside down. “This isn’t some sort of joke, right?”

Jade’s lips pursed. He worried for a second he’d offended her when she shook her head and turned to leave the room, before she tossed a slightly exasperated grin over her shoulder. “Really now, Rowan. I wouldn’t joke about this. Are you coming, or not?”

She disappeared into the hall without waiting to hear his answer.

Rowan took a deep breath, then another. He’d spent months among monks meditating for hours a day. He could surely dig deep enough to find some composure for this.

A second later, he scrambled from his chair and nearly knocked it over in his haste to follow. He didn’t even bother to grab boots.

Despite Jade’s head start and long-legged strides, he caught up to her easily. She glanced his way and frowned. “You look like you might be sick.”

“Might,” Rowan agreed as a swarm started in his stomach. His mind was racing. He’d liken the feeling to trying to collect raindrops in his hands, only for the water to slide through his fingers.

“It is him, right? We’re talking about the same person?”

His unwillingness to say his name was stupid. Rowan knew it, and yet he feared saying it aloud would only make it too real, and only all the more earth-shattering if he was gone by the time they made it to the front gates. If he only disappeared again, like a mirage fading in the desert sun.

If he could suspend disbelief long enough, it might just cushion the blow when it came.

Next to him, Jade sighed. “I’m beginning to regret being the one to offer to come find you.”

“Sorry,” Rowan said automatically. He stayed quiet for a minute and listened to their echoing footsteps in the otherwise empty hall before speaking up again. “What do you think he’s doing here?”

“If I could hazard a guess, it’d be to see you. Considering that’s who he asked for.”

Rowan pushed a hand against his chest as though the pressure might ease the fluttering behind his ribs. “How do I look?” he asked.

The corner of Jade’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Precious. The perfect combination of dashingly handsome and utterly shell shocked.”

Rowan pressed his lips together and shot her a dark look.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but you should see your face,” she told him before her own expression softened. “It’s sweet, honestly. I’ll stop teasing, I swear.”

“Sure,” Rowan muttered, “or next time I see Hendrik, I’ll just mention how _fetching_ the Princess finds him in his new jacket and cravat.”

“You know,” Jade mused, “they’ll talk about it for years, what a sweet boy that Prince of Dundrasil was, right up until the moment he disappeared without a trace. Such a shame.”

Rowan grinned.

The smile slipped from his face the second they made it into the Entrance Hall.

“I can’t do this,” Rowan announced without preamble.

Jade placed a hand between his shoulder blades and gave him a shove. “Quit being dramatic. He’s out there waiting for you.”

_He’s out there waiting for me._

Maybe he _could_ do it.

Rowan drew himself up, squared his shoulders back, and planted his hands on the doors to shove them open. When he made it out into the fresh air and the beaming late afternoon sun, he could hold himself back no longer and picked up his pace, leaving Jade behind.

From where he stood above the lawn he could see the huddle of bodies at the castle gates; he could see the light glancing off the guards’ armor, but not who they surrounded. He took off down the steps, two or three stairs at a time, until his bare feet met grass. He had to swipe his sweaty palms over the thighs of his pants. More than anything, he felt... _afraid._

Rowan could admit that maybe he absolutely was.

Experience told him that the painful bloom of hope in his chest was a cause for fear far more often than it was for celebration. If he had hope, he could be disappointed.

To have hope, Rowan knew, was to choose to live as a thing made of glass: with fragility, transparency, and to ultimately invite inside a force that could break. He was so tired of constantly fusing shards back into place only to still be able to see the seams.

As he approached the group, his breath caught in his throat. He pushed his way through with little thought to propriety.

And suddenly, there he was - as if the Goddess herself had dropped him in Rowan’s path, yet again.

_Erik._

Rowan’s heart beat the cadence of his name in a sharp staccato rhythm.

In the middle of a small gathering of Dundrasil’s newly knighted, Erik bristled. His shoulders were hunched forward as though he wished to make himself appear smaller. His right hand was wrapped around Mia’s wrist to keep her close, while the fingers of his left twitched towards his weapon without fully making contact. His eyes darted around; constantly moving, always watching. When his gaze landed on Rowan, his eyes went wide and locked on, as though he’d finally found what he wanted to see.

They both froze.

Erik looked almost exactly the same as he had the day he left, all those months ago.

With an odd numbness, Rowan wondered how different he must look to Erik’s eyes as the other boy scanned him up and down. There was a hint of wariness in his expression, and Rowan knew him well enough to recognize the look for what it was: Erik was trying to decide whether or not he’d made a mistake.

A minute - or perhaps an entire year - ticked by. Rowan realized he was holding his breath before he let it out in a slow, shaky exhale. His foot moved of its own accord. He took a stumbling step forward and then another, completely ignoring the words of the guards around him. They were white noise; every sense he had was trained on to one person, and one alone.

Erik’s lips moved as soundless words fell from his tongue. His hand left its position near his knife. He reached out in Rowan’s direction, his hand outstretched in either an offering or a plea.

It was all the invitation Rowan needed.

Rowan met him in the middle. He clasped his fingers around Erik’s wrist and pulled him in the rest of the way. He banded his arms around Erik’s back, tucked his face into the crook of his neck, and held on.

The reaction in Erik was instantaneous but gradual, all at once. He fell into Rowan easily enough, but by degrees; Rowan felt it first as Erik let his forehead drop onto his shoulder. He felt the surrendering touch of Erik’s chest to his, as though he no longer wished to support his own weight and hoped Rowan might carry it for a while.

Finally, when Erik’s hands came up to grip his tunic, to hold on just as tightly in return, Rowan noticed as something gave way inside that he could only attribute to _relief._

With every inhale he breathed him in - Erik even smelled the same, like sunshine and salt off the sea. With every moment he held him, the fault lines that split Rowan down the middle shifted back into place, into something resembling a whole.

All too soon, Erik’s breath stuttered next to Rowan’s ear. Erik’s hands slipped down his back before falling away entirely. He took a single step backward; still lingering close, but not close enough. His gaze flicked to Rowan and away again, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Hey,” Erik said. His voice was just a little too unsteady to come off as casually cool as he probably would have liked.

Rowan broke out into a grin so wide his cheeks ached with it. “Hi.”

A familiar smirk made an all too brief appearance. “I-”

A new voice cut in before he could speak. “And what, pray tell, could possibly have inspired so many of you to abandon post?”

In front of him, Erik went rigid.

“Sir,” one of the guards spoke up, “this man refused to state his business other than to request to see the Prince. We were simply detaining him.”

Jasper’s gaze raked over each of them in turn as he drew closer, one blond eyebrow arching high. His mouth twitched in amusement, but he didn’t let it spread into anything that could be construed as a smile. “So it would seem,” he started crisply, “but clearly our Prince does not consider him to be a threat, unless he greets all intruders with such enthusiasm.”

Rowan realized a little too late he was still clinging to Erik’s sleeve. Behind him, Mia was staring. Reluctantly, he let his hand fall away before shoving it into a pocket.

Jasper nodded. “Certainly, if he _were_ an assassin, his Royal Highness would already be quite dead indeed.”

“Sir-” the guard repeated, stammering a bit.

Jasper interrupted him with a wave, a clear dismissal. “Back to your stations.”

When the guards shuffled away, Jasper reached up and flicked his hair to one side with an impatient gesture, and then abruptly turned to leave. “As you were, gentlemen,” he called over his shoulder.

For a moment, there was a heavy silence in his wake.

Even Erik looked stunned. “So Jasper is…” he started, brow furrowing.

Rowan resisted the ridiculous urge to shuffle his feet, to fall to his knees and apologize. “He’s training our knights, for now. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, so…” he shrugged.

Erik’s expression was inscrutable. “So,” he said again, and finally, the beginnings of a smile tugged up one side of his mouth, “do I have to call you Your Highness now, or what?”

Rowan laughed, and some of the tension he carried in his shoulders fled with the sound. “Please don’t.”

They both fell quiet. Erik lifted his gaze from the ground and met Rowan’s eye before looking away quickly.

“Are you gonna introduce me, or do I have to keep standing behind you like a shadow?” Mia cut in as she shouldered her brother aside.

“You’ve already met. What more do you want, an announcement from a herald?” Erik grumbled.

Rowan smiled. “Hey, Mia.”

Her hands fell to her hips as she scanned Rowan with a critical eye. He felt like he was being judged and found summarily lacking.

“Erik!” Jade tossed an arm over his shoulders as she finally joined them. Rowan suspected she’d walked down the stairs as slowly as possible, and with full intention. “Nice of you to drop by. This must be Mia,” she added, offering Erik’s sister a warm smile.

Mia’s eyes flew wide. “You’re the one who beat my brother to a pulp, right?” she asked, clear awe in every word.

Jade’s grin shifted into something more mischievous. “That was me, yes. I see you tell her the good stories.” She gave Erik’s shoulder a squeeze before releasing him and offering a hand to Mia instead. “Come with me. If you want, I’ll show you some kicks.”

Mia ditched them without remorse or hesitation. After the two girls walked away with heads bent close and he and Erik were left alone, Rowan realized Jade’s strategy.

He couldn’t decide whether or not he appreciated it, or if it simply terrified him instead.

Erik was staring up at the castle with that cagey look back on his face, every line of him apprehensive. “You guys built this up fast.”

“It was Rab’s doing, mostly. He was motivated.” Rowan shifted on his feet, and the grass tickled his bare toes. He indicated to the pack on Erik’s back. “I can show you to a room if you want. You know, uh, if you planned on staying.”

_Please stay. Please, Goddess above, let him stay._

Erik looked back at him. He was fidgeting with something small in his left hand, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and shoved whatever it was back into a pocket, out of sight. “Yeah,” he let out a breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Rowan felt a fluttering in his stomach, a lightness in his chest, and recognized it for what it was.

Whether made of stone or glass, it seemed that not much had changed. Maybe he’d always be quick to hand Erik the tools to break him, and only trust that he wouldn’t wish to.

Maybe just this once, the little flicker of hope could stay for a while, unextinguished.

* * *

 

As Erik wandered the halls of Dundrasil’s new castle at it’s Prince’s side, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a catastrophic error in judgment.

Rowan had been happy enough to see him, certainly, but his heart was still racing, his spine prickling with the urge to run away. Though one could simply look around to see that things were different - the bright, newly polished masonry that used to be little more than rubble was enough of an indicator - nothing had truly _changed_ either, not really.

Rowan still held on to his secrets. He still didn’t _need_ Erik; he needed him even less now than he had before, but Erik was still so quick to throw himself at Rowan’s feet and hope that, if only for a moment, he’d banish the shadows that plagued him and wash him in light anew. He’d found himself back in much the same place as he’d started, and _nothing had changed._

Nothing, that was, except Rowan himself. His hair was shorter, falling just over his ears and grazing his cheekbone. It made him look older somehow, and even more graceful. He’d grown too, though only a scant few inches - anyone else might not have noticed, but Erik did.

“Well, this is my wing of the castle,” Rowan was saying, blatant embarrassment underlining his every word. That, at least, was something Erik could understand; he saw where Rowan had come from, and Cobblestone was a far cry from a palace. Erik glanced his way as Rowan continued.

“I’ve got some guest rooms you and Mia can take. Jade’s got her own room upstairs that she’s basically claimed since she visits often enough. You’d think she doesn’t trust Rab and me to get on by ourselves, but maybe she’s right.” Rowan took a deep breath. “Just stop me if I’m talking too much.”

That made Erik laugh even as something ached inside. Damn, had he missed him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rowan shot him a shy smile that made Erik’s stomach flip before he laid his hand on the door, shoving it open.

“So, here. This could be your room if you want. Mia could be across the hall. Mine is one door down,” Rowan said, “it’s a lot, I know, but I can say it’s nicer than sleeping on the ground.”

Erik blinked. The bed alone was bigger than any room he’d ever slept in. “It’s...something.”

 _A mistake._ He’d made a mistake in coming back.

He should have known better. Regardless of what Rowan had said before he left - that he’d always have a home, that he’d always have a place - Erik wasn’t so sure. It felt a little too much like Rowan trying to carve out a place where he might not be able to fit just right, no matter how tightly Erik squeezed.

After all, the only time he’d set foot in a castle so grand was when he was being dragged to the dungeons beneath it.

The spike of panic must have shown on his face, for suddenly Rowan reached out and caught Erik’s hand in his. Erik went completely still, no more able to turn his back on him as he would be to sprout wings and fly.

“Thank you,” Rowan told him, his expression very serious. “I don’t know what made you want to, but thank you for coming back.”

He should have pulled away. He should back out of the room, grab his sister, and flee. But something about the way Rowan’s hand looked wrapped around his own - the way they were so close to being intertwined, with their fingers laced together - something about the look on his face soothed the skittish animal that clawed for freedom inside his chest and calmed the doubts that plagued his mind.

No one had ever tried as hard to hold onto him as Rowan did.

Erik had never before been so desperate to hand someone a tether.

They had a knot so tight between them that no mortal force could split it. He’d tried to ignore it before, but he knew it now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Erik said. It sounded defensive and hostile to even his own ears, but Rowan looked so earnest, so fascinated by any word that fell from his tongue that he couldn’t stop himself from adding in a much smaller, softer voice, “I wanted to. Can that be enough for now?”

Rowan held his gaze, fond and unwavering. Erik felt his ears start to burn, felt a flush creep its way up his neck as Rowan gave his hand a light squeeze, the barest hint of pressure. His fingers were warm and calloused.

Somewhere in their time apart, Rowan seemed to have grown more self-assured, more aware of himself in a way he hadn’t been before. It only felt all the more dangerous, but Erik had never been one to shy away from a challenge.

He didn’t dare pull away. He didn’t want to.

“That’s more than enough,” Rowan agreed. “Thank you for wanting to. I’m glad you did,” he murmured, low and gravelly, and Erik’s pulse started to pound an unsteady rhythm.

“Yeah,” he said, willing his voice to be level. “Yeah. No problem.”

A beat passed, then another. “I’ll see you at dinner, then?” Rowan asked.

 _Like he’s scared he won’t,_ Erik thought. As though Rowan were terrified of nothing more than the idea that he would turn around only to find him gone again. It made his head spin.

 _Dinner,_ Erik told himself. A meal with Rab, Jade, Mia, and Rowan he could handle. That was almost normal. “Sounds good.”

Rowan nodded, offering a soft smile before releasing his hand and turning to leave. Erik missed the press of his fingers immediately.

Maybe he’d made a mistake, or maybe he hadn’t, but he was only certain of one thing: there was nowhere he could go and not feel the perpetual pull to return, like the tide receding from the moon only to wash back in.

The sands may change, but the sea never failed to fall right back in where it belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks so much for reading!! You guys are the absolute best, and if you have a tumblr, come chat if you like! @anytaintedcreature, where I occasionally post snippets and we do a whole bunch of fluffy luminerik headcannon-ing. It's a grand old time.


	17. 16: Shed Some Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost Valentines Day! You all have my undying love just for reading this garbage.

* * *

 

 

_Chapter 16: Shed Some Light_

 

_I’m falling apart again_

_And I can’t find a way to make amends_

_And I’m looking in both directions_

_But it’s make believe, it’s all pretend_

_So shed some light on me,_

_Hold me up in disbelief_

_And shed some light on me_

_And tell me something that I’ll believe in_

* * *

 

“If you’re gonna throw a punch you might as well put more force behind it, otherwise it’s pointless,” Erik said, catching Mia’s fist in his hand. She let out an exasperated huff, and he released her. “You’re just giving me an opening to grab you.”

Mia took a few steps backward on the lawn, scowling. “Well, you’re bigger than me,” she protested, “of course you can just grab me.”

“You think there aren’t people bigger than me?” Erik dropped his hands to his knees and watched her. “Come on, go again.”

Something mischievous lit Mia’s eyes. “Rowan’s bigger than you,” she pointed out as she started to stalk him in the grass.

“Nothing gets past you, huh,” Erik said, as dryly as he could manage. “You and me, we’re built small and fast. That’s what you have to use to your advantage.”

“That was some reunion,” Mia continued on, ignoring his instructions. “I’m sure there will be minstrels singing about it for years to come.”

Erik felt his face start to burn. His eyes narrowed. “Just attack me already,” he grumbled.

“Until that knight showed up, the blond one. Who was he, anyway? He’s pretty.”

“Who, _Jasper?”_ he sputtered. Before Erik could begin to fully register the horror her words stirred up, Mia dropped to the ground and swung her leg into his, knocking him flat.

Erik hit the ground hard, only to have the rest of his air battered from his lungs as Mia pounced on his chest and sat on him, smug triumph sparkling in her eyes.

“How was that?” she grinned.

“Oh, get off me.” He planted a hand on her shoulder and sent her careening into the grass. “You’ve been spending too much time with Jade.”

Mia was laughing at him. “I can’t wait to tell her that worked.” She got to her feet and held out a hand to pull him to his, before looking somewhere beyond him into the training yard. It had been mostly empty when they arrived - in the middle of breakfast, an avoidance strategy on Erik’s part - but as the sun rose higher in the sky, more and more people filtered out onto the lawn. Erik followed his sister’s gaze until his own landed on two in particular.

Not too far from where a small group of soldiers trained on practice dummies, Rowan and Jasper were facing off. Rowan had a wooden training sword in each hand and was holding his own against Jasper’s advances, fending off blows while managing to land a few of his own. Erik watched as Rowan slammed a sword into one of Jasper’s before feinting left. He brought his other arm up in readiness to strike, only for Jasper to not take his bait; he planted a boot against the center of Rowan’s unguarded chest and sent him dropping to the ground on his back like a rock.

The white-hot flare of protectiveness set his insides burning. Erik was halfway across the lawn, his hand still wrapped around his sister’s, when Rowan pushed up onto his elbows, threw back his head, and laughed.

Erik halted in place. The sight of Rowan’s mirth had his lips quirking into a smile even as his chest started to ache, struck suddenly by something deeply, almost unbearably sad.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Rowan laugh like that; completely at ease, almost... _buoyant._ He was happy in Dundrasil, in a way he’d never quite seemed to be anywhere else.

Mia tugged on Erik’s hand to get him moving again. She took the lead and dragged him the rest of the way over to the sparring pair.

“Though it is marginal at best, you are showing improvement,” Jasper was saying to the boy on the ground as they drew nearer. “Perhaps you will not be an utter embarrassment to your kingdom after all.”

Rowan was grinning, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. When he glanced over and noticed them, his smile widened further still. “High praise, from one embarrassment to another.”

Jasper shot him a distinctly unimpressed look. “However, you insist on using the left blade as a shield. As you might still be unaware, let me remind you that it is decidedly _not.”_

“What happened to your shield, anyway?” Erik asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Rowan wiped sweat from his forehead and leaned back in the grass. “I’ve still got it, even though it’s a bit dented. But I’ve been told if I want to be a decent Prince I should try to be a passable knight, and if I want to be a knight, I have to learn to fight properly in many techniques. Apparently, I was awful at most things before.”

“Considering you managed to break a limb through shield _and_ armor, I’d say you are as inept with a shield as anything else,” Jasper added, before letting his own wooden blades drop to the ground at Rowan’s side. “Tomorrow morning we will try again. Perhaps you will manage to stay on your feet.”

Erik couldn’t resist the urge to glare at Jasper’s back as he left them, making his way over to the group of training soldiers. Erik held out a hand to Rowan and hauled him up from the ground. Grass covered the back of his tunic, and Erik caught himself reaching out to brush it away. He shoved his other hand decisively back into his pocket.

“What were you guys doing?” Rowan asked, threading his fingers through his hair to dislodge any debris.

“Erik’s teaching me to fight. He’s not as good as Jade, though,” Mia said.

“Hey!”

Rowan nodded sagely. “Not many can claim that, no.”

“So why don’t you show me?” Mia sounded innocent, unassuming. Her tone set off alarm bells instantly.

“What, with those?” Erik gestured to the abandoned training weapons and scoffed. “I don’t like swords. Too...dignified.”

Rowan was biting his lip, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “Erik prefers dirty tricks and sneak attacks.”

“Right,” Erik agreed, “the less rules, the better.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Then just fight, like we were earlier. Show me how to take on a bigger opponent.”

Erik glanced at Rowan, then away again. “I-”

It was tiresome, the constant battle between wanting nothing more than to just be where Rowan was, and the instinct to run and incase himself in a shell to hide his softer spots. He couldn’t shake the urge to lock his heart away, to stash it where Rowan’s soft smiles and promises couldn’t splinter it any further.

But he also wanted to hand it over on the hope that Rowan wouldn’t grind it to dust beneath his boot, to see what it might be like to bask in those smiles rather than look away before they burned.

Rowan stretched his shoulders. “We used to spar sometimes,” he told Mia, “he _did_ usually beat me.”

That much was true, Erik remembered, but then, when they first met Rowan was a little closer to his size. Now there was no question which one of them was taller or who was stronger.

He’d be willing to bet he was still faster, though.

“So come on then,” Mia pressed. “Show me how it’s done, big brother.”

Next to him, Rowan started to smirk. Erik felt like he’d been backed into a corner.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He cracked his knuckles and sank into something he hoped resembled a combative stance. Erik figured there was more than one way to work through the lingering strain of their separation, and he couldn’t argue that grappling in the grass was more to his style than talking about it would ever be.

The problem with fighting against your partner rather than beside him, Erik thought, was that there was little difference in attacking your own reflection in a mirror. As they circled each other like prowling sabrecats, he knew where Rowan’s hand would go simply by the minute shifts in his shoulders. He could predict where Rowan would step by knowing where he didn’t. Rowan knew his tactics just as well as his own, and as such it was more akin to that of an odd dance than a battle.

After only a few minutes of ducking and dodging, Rowan seemed to grow weary of his evading and simply leaped for him instead.

Rowan’s body collided with his, and Erik’s breath left him with an _‘oof.’_ They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Above him, Rowan looked startled, then sheepish. He pushed up on one arm, his hand splayed in the dirt beside Erik’s cheek. Rowan’s hair swept over his forehead and he nearly blocked out the sun. After a second, his shoulders relaxed as though he thought the fight was over. “Sorry, I-”

Erik bucked underneath him and heard Rowan’s strangled gasp. He swiped out at Rowan’s arm, breaking his stance and toppling him over. Erik rolled with him until Rowan was flat on his back, a dazed look on his face. His knees fell on either side of Rowan’s hips, and Erik’s fingers wrapped his wrists and pinned them to the ground. He felt the fight drain out of Rowan as an entirely different tension thrummed through him.

When Erik looked down, his triumphant smirk fell away. Rowan’s chest was heaving. His eyes went dark and fixed on Erik’s as though he could see nothing else, as though he would be content to never see anything else again.

Erik couldn’t look away. He couldn’t even begin to catch his breath.

Rowan’s hands clenched into fists. Erik watched as Rowan’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and _dammit,_ but he’d been kidding himself if he thought that feeling had fled. The unshakeable wanting hadn’t ever gone away, not really. It had only lain dormant, waiting for a match to strike, to stroke it back to a fever pitch.

But Rowan wasn’t looking at him like he _wanted_ him. His expression was one of pure desperation, the look of a man who’d been cut off from the air he needed to breathe so long he could scarcely remember what it was to have his lungs full, to have his heart beating.

Rowan didn’t look as though he only wanted Erik’s touch. He looked like he was absolutely starved for it.

It would be so easy, Erik thought, to collapse against him and keep falling until they could not be parted, until no one could tell where one ended and the other began. It would be the simplest thing to offer him what he needed and breathe for him.

Tentatively, Erik swiped his thumbs over the insides of Rowan’s wrists, over the swell of his palms. He let his gaze travel down Rowan’s arms and over the lines of his collarbones, visible beneath the open neck of his training tunic. When he lifted his eyes back to Rowan’s, the boy beneath him drew in a shallow breath.

Erik didn’t feel the least bit pathetic in noting that the precise shade of Rowan’s eyes had to be his favorite color. He’d only ever seen its likeness on storm-tossed seas, when the water reflected the darkened sky as the clouds broke to make room for the sun. Despite his travels, he’d swear to anyone who asked that he’d never met anyone more beautiful.

Before he could lean in and crush his mouth to Rowan’s, before he could find a way to climb beneath his best friend’s skin, Erik heard the sound of a throat clearing and felt awareness rush back, no so unlike a cold bucket of water to the face.

“Wow, that was really something,” Mia said, and Erik released Rowan like he’d been stung. He scrambled backward on his hands and tried to arrange his face into something that resembled calm. Anything that suggested he hadn’t been mere seconds away from tearing Rowan’s clothes from him in the middle of the training yard, for all of Dundrasil and his baby sister to see.

Erik risked a glance down at Rowan, who hadn’t moved. The look on his face blasted through him faster than any magic would have and cut through him more viciously than any sword.

Rowan looked devastated. He was the very picture of a man overboard, tossed a lifeline only to watch it slip through his fingers, lost to the waves.

Erik tore his eyes away. He couldn’t handle that expression, nor even begin to sort through what it meant. He shoved himself up to his feet and brushed grass away from his tunic with more violence than was necessary. “Uh, yeah. That’s how you handle a bigger opponent. Let them think they’ve won.”

Rowan rose to his knees, his hair falling in his face. Erik’s heart was still pounding a merciless rhythm.

 _Let them think they’ve won,_ he thought, _only to steal the clothes from their back, or rip the still-beating heart from their chest._

“Then go for the kill. Got it,” Mia was staring at him, something too keen in her gaze as she backed up a few steps. “Well, cool. I’m going to go...find Jade, or something. Bye!”

She danced away, completely ignoring his pleas for her to come back.

_Don’t leave us alone, not now._

He didn’t know what to do.

Erik scrubbed his palm over his face and raked his fingers back into his hair before turning to face Rowan. He let out a low breath. “You alright?” he asked, and offered a hand.

Rowan stared at his fingers for a second before slowly slipping his own into them. Once he was on his feet, Rowan pulled his hand free without hesitation. “I-yeah. I should, uh, go. Check in with Rab, you know.” He wouldn’t look up, not daring to meet Erik’s eyes.

“Rowan-”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He was pleading with him, begging Erik to let him go, and Erik had only ever gathered the strength to deny him once.

“Yeah,” Erik agreed. “Yeah, later.”

As Rowan jogged away from him, Erik wondered when the earth had managed to shift beneath their feet. Ever since he’d returned he felt unsteady and quite suddenly, in the space of seconds, he’d been the one to gain the higher ground. He didn’t want it.

No matter the height, regardless of the depth, he only ever wanted to be by Rowan’s side, on equal footing.

* * *

 

Rowan hid in the barracks, commandeered one of the showers, and stayed beneath the spray until the water turned his skin to ice. He wasn’t ashamed of it.

Sometimes a tactical retreat was necessary.

When he felt certain he’d regained suitable control over both his emotions and facilities, he walked back out into the sun. He ought to go track down Erik, he knew - he’d acted insane, and Erik had clearly been concerned - but no amount of false cheer was going to erase _that_ any time soon, and Rowan needed a moment.

He needed several moments.

His feet carried him towards one of his favorite hiding spots. The stables reminded him of Cobblestone as it’d been before Mordegon ordered it razed to the ground. The smell of horses was a familiar, comforting one, however unprincely it might be. Besides, his own horse showed his temper if he felt he wasn’t getting enough carrots.

Rowan ducked under the low hanging branch of a birch tree and rounded the fence only to pause at the sight of Jasper, bent at the knee and feeding bits of an apple to a spotted filly.

Jasper glanced up and stilled, looking very much as though he’d been caught in the middle of something sinister.

Rowan blinked. “What are you - are you feeding treats to that horse?”

“Obviously,” Jasper said, his brow furrowing. The horse continued to lick at his palm, and Rowan felt a smile curl the corners of his mouth.

“I just...didn’t expect to find someone else here,” Rowan said, still staring.

“Well, I shall take my leave, then.” Jasper stood up hastily. The filly skittered away, startled by the sudden movement, and guilt flashed over Jasper’s face.

“No, don’t worry about it,” Rowan told him, slowly coming up to the fence at his side. He clicked his tongue to the horse, murmuring soothing nonsense until she warily made her way back over to them. “I didn’t know you liked horses.”

“I - I used to like animals, as a child,” Jasper chose his words very carefully. “I came to inspect the stables a few weeks ago during a rotation and found a foaling mare.” He inclined his head towards the baby he’d fed. “After we managed to assist in her delivery, Samuel said the filly could be mine, when she grows.”

“Samuel?”

“The groom,” Jasper snapped. There was something defensive in his voice, and when Rowan turned to look at him, he saw a flush creeping up Jasper’s neck.

“I- I hadn’t formally met him yet,” Rowan stammered, dumbfounded. “Sorry.”

Jasper waved a hand, as though his words could be willed away so easily.

Rowan planted his boots on the fence and stood on it. He was silent for a moment before asking, “What do you plan to name her?”

Jasper blinked. “I hadn’t thought of a name yet.”

“Well you’ve got some time to get to know her first, I guess. Jade’s the one who ended up naming Atlas.”

Jasper kept his eyes on his future steed. “I suppose I was wrong about you, Rowan.”

He nearly slipped from his perch. “What about?”

Jasper didn’t look his way, but his expression was a thoughtful one. “When I said you were naive to believe in change simply by wishing for it. I’ve grown to think that, perhaps, change happens around you because you will it instead.”

Rowan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know about that.”

“Do spare me your self-deprecating drivel, I beg you,” Jasper sounded tired. “I only mean to say thank you. You helped me even though I did not deserve it or act entirely grateful, and yet somehow, I’ve ended up in a better place, all the same.”

“I - You’re welcome,” Rowan said, thoroughly stunned.

Jasper dipped his head in a decisive nod. He stepped away from the fence and walked back towards the castle without another word.

He watched Jasper disappear before turning back to the foal. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t give you a stupid name,” he promised.

The filly only snorted and returned her attention to the grass, unimpressed with the Prince of Dundrasil. From the corral behind him, Rowan heard his horse let out a low, impatient nicker.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming with your carrots.”

* * *

After taking his dinner as far away from anyone he knew as was possible, Erik shoved open the door to his room, stalked inside, and collapsed onto the bed with a groan.

“Well, that’s a way to make an entrance.”

“Shit,” Erik hissed, casting a glare around the room until he found his sister. Mia was stretched out on the ridiculous fainting couch with a bunch of papers strewn over her stomach and in her hands. “This is my room,” Erik protested, sitting up. “Why are you even in here, lurking in the dark?”

“So Erik,” Mia started, ignoring his question completely. “Were you going to tell me that the Luminary, Prince of Dundrasil, _Savior of the Universe_ and whatever other titles he might have to his name has the hots for you? Or were you just waiting until I figured it out for myself, while I had to watch you two make eyes at each other on the lawn?”

Erik felt like the room turned upside down. His breathing went shallow. “You- you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” Mia said gleefully. She smiled, her teeth white in the dim room.

“What have you got there, Mia?”

“Letters,” she hummed.

His blood ran cold. “Where did you get them?”

“I found them in Rowan’s room,” she said, in a voice so guileless it took him a moment longer than it should have to process her words.

“You-” Erik stammered. “You _stole_ them from his room? Why would you do that?”  

Finally, something like guilt flickered across her face. He got to his feet and stormed over to her and snatched the parchment from her hands. “Are you kidding me? This is all sorts of wrong, Mia. I can’t believe you.”

Mia flopped back onto the couch, arms crossed over his chest. She pointedly avoided his stare. “I was just trying to help,” she grumbled.

“This is not how you do it,” Erik hissed, gathering the rest of the letters into his arms. They felt more akin to timebombs than simple correspondence. “Now I have to go give these back, how is that going to look?”

 _“Please._ It sounds like I did you two a favor.”

Erik could think of nothing else to say to her. When Mia dug her heels in, he’d waste endless amounts of energy trying to move her. He ground his teeth together and left the room as abruptly as he’d entered it only moments before.

* * *

Rowan was sitting on the sill of his open window when he heard the knock at the door. He tore his gaze away from the stars and glanced over his shoulder before putting his feet back on the ground and crossing the room.

Erik stood at the other side of the door. There was something nervous in his expression, something uncharacteristically timid in the way he shifted on his feet. Rowan had a question on the tip of his tongue when he glanced down at his hands and went rigid.

Erik held a careful stack of papers in his hand, and Rowan recognized them instantly.

“Those-” he started, incredulous. He couldn’t string together any more words. Nothing made it through the buzzing that started up in his ears, the beginnings of panic.

“I didn’t read them,” Erik swore, handing the letters over with haste. “I- well. Mia stole them. She’s going through a phase, I’m sorry, she won’t do it again.”

Rowan blinked. Absently, he put a hand to his chest, where Erik pressed the papers to his sternum.

“But I didn’t look at them, I don’t know what’s in them. I don’t know who they’re for-”

“You,” Rowan said, finding his voice at last. “They’re for you.”

Erik’s brows knitted together. “Oh.”

Rowan took a deep breath before closing his fingers around Erik’s wrist and gently turning his hand over. He placed the stack of letters back into his palm. “They’re yours. I, uh, wrote them while you were gone, obviously. But before you left I promised you I’d tell you the truth, and I did. I told you the truth in those letters.” Slowly, Rowan met Erik’s gaze. “I told you everything, wrote it all out, and I think it’s time you knew it, if you want to. If you still want to know.”

Erik looked astounded. When he didn’t say anything, one by one, Rowan curled Erik’s fingers over his offering. “If you want to know, you read them. But this time, it’ll be your choice.”

Erik was still staring at him.

Nerves skittered under his skin. His heart was trying to burst free. “Wait, maybe -” Rowan plucked one off the top and checked it. He felt heat stain his cheeks. “Maybe just read this one last, though.”

“Okay,” Erik said softly, “I’ll read them.” He took a step backward. “Uh,” he reached up and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Rowan murmured, and watched him go.

* * *

* * *

When he opened his eyes he saw fire and a spiral of smoke wafting up towards the sky. While the smell still brought on a barrage of nerves, still set his heart thudding against its cage, Rowan had learned to manage it as time went on.

It was only a campfire though, and that helped.

Mia sat across from him, calmly whittling away at something in her hands, and for a moment he just stared at her. He'd almost forgotten how jarring it was to fall into the dream of another.

Almost.

He must have made a sound, for she looked up from her project and studied him, one eyebrow arching high.

 _Goddess, but if she grew just a bit taller, she really could be Erik’s twin._ Seeing his distinctive expressions in a female face was still startling, even with as much time as he’d spent among the two of them.

“What are you doing here?” Mia asked, sounding curious.

“Hell if I know,” Rowan said. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this. There were a couple times with Jade in Cobblestone, that was _weird-”_

Mia narrowed her eyes, suddenly looking defiant. “If you’re mad about me taking those letters, I was just-”

“I’m not,” Rowan interrupted. “I mean, I’d rather you didn’t go through my stuff, honestly. But I’m not really mad about it.”

At once, Mia deflated, the wind leaving her sails in an instant. “Oh. Well, okay.”

“Wait,” Rowan frowned. “We’re dreaming, right? Aren’t we?”

“So what?”

“So, most people don’t...I don’t know, they don’t usually know we’re in a dream, or they don’t connect what’s happening in the waking world, but you remember the letters, I don’t-” Rowan blinked as understanding dawned. “Mordegon. It must be Mordegon’s doing. Jasper was aware of me in his dream too, and he remembered it even after he woke up...no one else has.”

When he looked up, Mia was scowling. “So, you’re saying that anyone can just invade my brain whenever they want. Great.”

“Not _anyone,_ I’d guess,” Rowan offered a sheepish smile. “If it helps, I don’t do it on purpose.”

Mia gave a careless wave of her knife. “Whatever. So...Mordegon. That’s who spoke to me, right? When I was golden?”

Rowan nodded. “Yeah. He was trying to twist your mind.”

Mia didn’t seem nearly as fazed by that as she likely ought to be. “You know, I thought for a while that someone else spoke to me, too,” she said, tilting her face up to look at the sky. “I mean, the voice sounded the same, but...nicer, somehow. It was sometime after Mordegon stopped whispering to me, right before I woke up, someone told me the darkness was fading, that light would come soon instead.” She met Rowan’s gaze across the fire. “And then it did, when you and Erik found me. I really do think it was the same voice, but that doesn’t make any sense.”

Rowan felt it then, the odd sensation that there was a specific truth on the tip of his tongue, a great _something_ just out of his reach. If he stretched a little further, maybe he could get enough of a hold to wrap his fingers around it, to keep it within his grasp.

Distantly, he heard a rhythmic _thump, thump, thump._

“They had the same voice?” Rowan asked.

“But different, too. I don’t know,” Mia shook her head, frowning. “It’s time for you to go, though.”

The pounding noise continued, louder and more insistent. His heart sped up to match in a frenetic sort of disharmony.

“But wait, I need to _know_ -”

_Thump._

Time’s almost up, Rowan.”

Before he could even begin to process that warning, the fire faded away to nothing as the dream escaped his hold completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're making our way super slowly towards that happy ending I promised, right? As always, thanks for reading and for every kudos/comment, I love that shit way more than chocolates and flowers and all that mess.


	18. 17: Let's Hurt Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so excited to share this one with you guys. It's a LOT of dialogue...but hopefully long-awaited dialogue. Enjoy.

* * *

 

_Chapter 17: Let's Hurt Tonight_

 

_So you hit the lights and I’ll lock the doors_

_Let’s say all of the things that we couldn’t before_

_Won’t walk away, won’t roll my eyes_

_They say love is pain, well darling, let’s hurt tonight_

_If this love is pain, then honey, let’s love tonight_

* * *

_After_

 

He’d forgotten how crisp the air was in Arboria, how lovely it could be with the pure green of the of the trees and the clear running streams. Rowan had forgotten how it felt to stand at the precipice with possibility stretched out as far as the eye could see. What he hadn’t forgotten, though, was how there was nothing quite like the top of the world to remind you how far the fall could be back to the ground.

Rowan sat on one side of a tombstone, Erik on the other. They’d dropped fresh flowers in front of it and every once in a while, Rowan could smell them on the breeze that drifted through the Grove of Repose.

They’d been sitting quietly for several moments when, with little warning, Erik spoke up. “What would you do if I died?”

Rowan spun around to stare at him. Erik wasn’t looking his way; instead, he’d taken great interest in one of the nearby trees.

“What kind of question is that?” Rowan demanded.

“One I’d like an answer to, really,” Erik quipped back.

Rowan narrowed his eyes. Finally, Erik turned to face him. “That’s not funny,” Rowan said.

Erik sighed. “It wasn’t meant to be. I’m just wondering. I don’t think I’d want to be buried somewhere, stuck in one spot. And I mean this was your idea, to come sit with her. If I died, would you just sit at my grave all the time?”

Rowan breathed in and out through his nose. It made an odd whistling sound. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

There must have been enough pleading in his voice because Erik shifted over to sit next to him. He dropped an arm around Rowan’s shoulders and tugged him in, and Rowan went easily enough, settling his ear over the thud of Erik’s heart.

“I’d want you to be happy, you know,” Erik murmured against his forehead. “I wouldn’t want you to sit at a grave until you die.”

The thought made his skin feel too hot, too tight. “Well, I wouldn’t be happy, okay? So don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

Erik scoffed. “Come on.”

Rowan sat up straight and frowned at him, and Erik’s arm settled somewhere around his waist. “No, okay? Look, I’m sure there are some people out there who would eventually be fine if their-” _Love,_ Rowan thought. _Soulmate. Everything._ “-if their person died, but I am not one of them. I’m just not, and no amount of ‘I’d want you to be happy’ will change it. It’s a nice thing to say, but you know what? It’s just crap. We’ve seen what happens when someone dies, and I miss her. I miss her every day. I still turn around and catch myself trying to tell her something, and then I remember she’s gone, that she will _always_ be gone, and it’s just this giant hole inside that might get smaller, eventually, but it’s still going to be there. But _you?”_ He let out a shaky breath. “That terrifies me. I can’t even imagine it. That would rip me apart. If there’s a life without you in it, I’m just not interested. A life without you is just inconceivably _worse._ And maybe that makes me a coward, I don’t care, but it’s just not a life I want to see.”

When he stopped talking, breathing hard, Erik was staring at him with wide eyes.

“What?” Rowan grumbled, feeling his face heat up. “You asked for it.”

“Nothing, just...man, that was a hell of a speech,” Erik mused.

“You’re just making fun of me now.”

Erik grabbed the front of his tunic and hauled him in close, until they were nose to nose. “I wouldn’t want to see a world without you either, you know.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, then,” Rowan whispered. He felt the quirk of Erik’s grin against his own lips as he leaned in closer still.

The kiss was a soft one; embers instead of an inferno, steadiness in place of urgency. Erik’s fingers slid down Rowan’s collar to rest over his heart, and Rowan clutched at his arms, his shoulders, without ever a thought for letting go.

“We could go back, if you want,” Rowan murmured, swaying into him until his forehead came to rest against Erik’s. “I’m sure Mia has run Serena ragged by now.” His eyes fell upon the grave next to them. He hesitated a moment before adding, “I just wanted to come spend some time with her, while we were here.”

Erik’s mouth curved upwards, soft and knowing. “Yeah. Good plan.”

Rowan got to his feet and wandered back towards the path that led to town. When he realized Erik had yet to follow he stopped a few yards away and spun back around.

He watched as Erik lifted two fingers to his mouth before lowering his hand and touching them to the top of the tombstone. He then promptly shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away.

With a sad sort of smile, Rowan waited for him to catch up. He wasn’t the only one, after all, who still remembered the weight of all that they’d lost on the way down.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The sound of knocking was slow to make it through the remaining dregs of sleep. Awareness washed over him steadily, gently, until all at once, Rowan jolted upright. For a moment, he was surprised he’d even managed to fall asleep at all, before the banging started up again.

Someone was at the door. With a certainty that made his heart skip a beat, he knew who it was instantly. Short of unmitigated disaster befalling the castle, there was only one person with cause to seek him out so late at night.

He rolled out of bed, his bare feet hitting the woolen rug. He failed twice to light the lamp on his nightstand before giving up and snapping his fingers to summon a flame for the wick, and when at last a small glow lit the room, Rowan followed the flickering shadows across the stones to the door.

Erik was back on the other side, much as he’d been hours before. His fist was raised to knock again, and the other hand clutched the stack of letters. He wore only trousers meant for sleep and little else, and appeared to be more frazzled than Rowan had ever seen him. “I- you-”

With what should be considered a heroic effort, Rowan managed to keep his gaze on Erik’s face. “I guess you’ve got questions, then,” he said for him, offering the faintest of smiles in an attempt to hide his nerves.

Erik’s face twisted. He looked utterly stricken. “Yeah. _Yeah,_ you could say that. What the hell are these? It...it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Come on in, if you want,” Rowan murmured, stepping back to allow him into the room.

Erik walked past him and started to pace the length of the floor, his brows furrowed.

Rowan dropped to sit at the foot of his bed. He picked at a stray thread in the quilt. “So, uh...which part is giving you the most trouble?”

Erik stopped moving for a moment. Rowan felt his gaze keenly. “You - you’re telling me that you traveled through time? That ever since the day we went up to Yggdrasil, you weren’t…” he frowned. “You weren’t the same? You weren’t...you?”

“I’ve always been me, but that’s the day the timelines diverged, yes,” Rowan sighed. “For almost a year after that, I’ve lived it twice, in two very different ways. I’ve got both sets of memories. So I guess it’s safe to say I might have been a little different, sure...but I was always _me.”_

“You were,” Erik told him. “Different, I mean. You might have been the same person, but one day you just weren’t... _happy,_ anymore. As happy as you could be back then, I guess, what with Cobblestone-” he broke off, picking his words carefully. “But it was a night and day difference. I always knew it was something,” Erik clarified.

“I wasn’t very good at hiding it from you, no,” Rowan agreed. He kept his eyes on the floor. The intensity of Erik’s stare made him want to squirm.

“So, you just...you lived a different life for about a year, then...what? How did you go back in time? You wrote that you - you broke the Time Sphere? Was it an accident?” Erik demanded.

He was trying to understand, Rowan knew, but there was something he just didn’t want to say out loud, if he didn’t have to.

_I left you. I had a choice and I left you, even if it wasn’t much of a choice at all._

Rowan’s heart twisted. “No,” he murmured. “I - I chose to when the opportunity presented itself. I didn’t want to, but I chose it.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression was more contemplative than aggressive. “Okay, fine. We’ll come back to that one.” He resumed pacing.

Rowan watched.

Erik’s chest was rising and falling rapidly. Half-dressed as he was, Rowan could practically see his slamming heartbeat under the scar that laid over his sternum like a stain; the scar Erik had earned trying to save _him._ Rowan wondered if the day would ever come when they could show their loyalties in a way that didn’t mar them, in a way that showed love as a blessing instead of a curse to bear.

“You said you shared dreams with people. With me, mostly. And that in one of those dreams, I...died?”

Rowan shut his eyes and let out a breath. “Yes.”

“And the Seer told you I was going to die,” he continued.

“Well, no,” Rowan drew his knees up to his chest. “The Seer told me I’d have to pay a price, I-” he raked a hand through his hair. “Do you remember the labradrakes?”

Erik frowned. “The day we unfroze Mia?”

“Yes, when the labradrakes attacked us, and they almost took out Hendrik, but Jade jumped in at the last second and saved him?”

“Yeah? What’s that got to do-”

“The night before, I dreamed it. Almost exactly as it happened, just with no real detail - see, I saw _something_ attack Hendrik, I just didn’t know what. _Something_ held me back from saving him - which turned out to be you - and it was just a lucky chance that Jade jumped in, that she was close enough, that she _cared_ enough to save him. Because in the other timeline, he was my friend,” Rowan clasped his hands together. “He was my friend, but then, in Sniflheim, none of you really knew him. So it didn’t-”

“I’m sorry,” Erik mumbled, “I’m sorry I stopped you, I didn’t know-” he made a frustrated noise and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey,” Rowan reached out for him and thought better of it. He sat on his hand to keep it still. “You didn’t know,” he shrugged one shoulder. “You didn’t know. It’s not your fault. But what I was trying to say is that, _that_ day, it all happened the way it did in my dream. So when I dreamed that you would - that at the volcano, you’d-”

“Die?” Erik supplied. He’d turned back around and was watching him again, his face inscrutable.

“Yeah,” Rowan breathed. “I saw it, and I just...I couldn't. I just couldn’t.”

Erik’s expression softened. He looked away and cast his gaze towards the window. “So when I told you I’d follow you, you put me to sleep.”

“I put you to sleep,” he agreed, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, or a good reason, but after Veronica, I couldn’t lose _you_ too.”

Erik blinked, and Rowan realized immediately what he’d said. He remembered the one fact he’d left out of every single letter. Erik’s eyes flew wide.

“Too?” he echoed. “Veronica _died?”_ he looked horrified by the thought. “She died, and that’s why you…” he trailed off, taking a couple steps closer to the bed. “Before Yggdrasil, after,” Erik quoted, in a voice barely more than a whisper. “That’s what you wrote. She died when we went up to Yggdrasil, and that’s why you went back to that day. To stop it.”

The taut wire he’d clung to for months frayed and snapped. Rowan’s shoulders slumped. He doubled over at the waist, as though his bones no longer wanted to hold him up, and dropped his head into his hands.

He’d been holding onto his secrets for so long and so tightly that even the act of letting them go brought a sort of phantom pain with the echoes.

After a second, Erik’s hand came up to cover his, to pull his fingers away from his face. “Hey, look at me.”

Rowan could only ever give him what he asked.

Erik was on his knees in front of him. He looked very grave, and the miserable empathy in his eyes made Rowan’s stomach hurt. “What about the rest of us? We just let you go?”

“Eventually,” Rowan said quietly. “But you didn’t want me to.”

Erik’s fingers tightened around his, a vice grip. “No,” he mused. A sad, mirthless smile curled his lips. “No, I wouldn’t, would I?” With little warning, Erik pulled away, retreating back to the window. He held onto the ledge with a white-knuckled grip and hunched forward. Rowan could see the knots of his spine.

“What’s wrong?” The question came out raspy. He felt foolish asking, but Rowan knew Erik well enough to recognize the difference between distress and something worse. He knew the exact face Erik made when he let that gnawing self-loathing rise to the surface.

It was his least favorite expression.

Erik’s shoulders went tight. He spun around, anguish clear in every line of his face. “What’s wrong? I left you _alone,”_ his voice rose and broke. The muscle in his jaw was ticking as he struggled to keep the shards of his composure together. “I knew something was wrong. I _knew,_ and I left you alone anyway.”

“Hey, don’t-” Rowan started, reaching out. “I deserved it,” he said weakly.

Erik rounded on him, all fury. _“No one_ deserves to be left alone!”

His voice echoed. It shattered the quiet veil that had shrouded the room and rained back down on them like broken glass.

All at once, Erik’s face crumbled. He folded in on himself, his eyes screwing shut. Without hesitation, without doubt, Rowan rose up to catch him.

Erik buried his face into Rowan’s neck. “I’m _sorry.”_

Rowan barely heard the broken, muffled whisper. He only held on all the more tightly, his fingers digging into warm, bare skin. “Shh,” Rowan soothed, his own voice shaking. He turned until his nose brushed into Erik’s hair, until his words could fall right from his mouth to Erik’s ear. “It’s already forgiven, okay?” he murmured. “You came back. You came back, despite everything I did.” Rowan ran his hands up and down Erik’s back, over the wings of his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry too. I’m so sorry for all of it.”

Erik’s fingers twisted into his shirt. Rowan heard him release a shuddering breath.

They stayed silent, huddled together in the semi-darkness for longer than Rowan knew.

Erik drew back, but barely. “One more question.” His voice was ragged, uneven, and Rowan immediately knew what his question would be, the moment before he asked it.

“You and me, we...had something,” Erik said, searching. For once there was no mask, no forced composure; only eyes wide open.

Rowan’s mouth curved into a gentle, wistful smile. “Erik, we had _everything.”_

Erik stared at him. His lips parted open in a silent _‘oh’_. Rowan felt it when Erik’s chest hitched, when his fingers gripped Rowan just a little bit tighter as he struggled to find words.

“Okay,” Erik swallowed. “Okay. Let’s figure out how to find them, then.”

“Find what?”

“My memories. Of all that,” Erik sat back and spread his hands wide, and Rowan reluctantly let his own fall away from Erik’s skin. “I want them.”

Rowan sucked in a breath and held it. He wasn’t sure what his expression looked like, but when Erik frowned, he realized it must not have been good.

“I thought you would want that,” there was a trace of uncertainty creeping into Erik’s voice. “Right?”

“I do,” Rowan hastened to say, “I do want that. But you...you should- I just want to make sure you want it for _you_ more than for me.”

Erik nudged him with a bare foot. “For almost an entire year, I lived a different life. We went down different roads, went through different things and ended up in other places.” His expression turned serious. “Then you set the clock back - for a good reason - and now I _know,_ but there’s still so much missing. I want to really know it.” he hesitated before meeting Rowan’s eye once more, his voice going rough. “So there’s a world out there where you and me, we figured things out. You said it was an _honor_ to be loved by me, and I...I want to know what it was like to be loved by _you.”_

Rowan reached out and twined his fingers around Erik’s wrist before pulling his hand up to press it flat over his own heart.

 _You already know,_ he thought, _because I’ve never once stopped._

“If that’s what you want,” Rowan said in a low, raw whisper, “if that’s what you want, I might know a way, or at least something to try.”

Erik’s eyes flicked between his face and the hand he had splayed over Rowan’s chest. “Then let’s do it. Let’s go.”

“What, tonight?” Rowan asked, bewildered.

Erik grinned. “Yeah, tonight. Now,” he jumped to his feet. “Right now.”

“O-Okay,” Rowan stammered, pushing himself up from the floor.

Erik was backing towards the door, something just a bit manic in the curve of his mouth. “I’ll get my stuff, leave a note for Mia-”

“Just a note? She’ll kill you.”

He paused by the door. “Oh, one more thing,” Erik said, and Rowan felt his heart hammer against his ribs.

“What?”

Erik smiled - a _real_ smile, bright and full of mischief. “I’m keeping those awful, drunk haikus.”

He was so stunned that Erik was already out the door before Rowan’s laugh broke free from his chest, and the echoes of it followed him down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're off. I hope these two finally talking was satisfying, lemme know what you think and as always, thank you thank you thank you for reading!


	19. 18: This World of Ours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hi hello, dearest friends of mine. Y'all about killed me with all the beautiful responses to the last chapter, so here's one that's mostly fun.  
> Also, if you're interested, I did a sort of mini play by play of Erik's reactions to the letters on Tumblr. We have a good old time over there, and you can thank flutiebear for that one.  
> And speaking of, THANK YOU to Flutie for looking at this chapter when I was panicking over it. Smooches

* * *

 

_Chapter 18: This World of Ours_

 

_I want it all, I want to fade to light_

_We could be stars if we could imagine life was real_

_And we could all fall in love in this world of ours_

* * *

 

Rowan shifted from one foot to the other outside of Erik’s door. The hallway was silent and likely had been for hours, but the thought did nothing for his nerves. He had both of his swords, a coin purse, and a small satchel of herbs attached to his belt, but no matter how many times he ran through his inventory, it wasn’t quite enough to steady his hands. He somehow felt both invigorated and altogether exhausted, as though he could run for miles and climb to the top of a waterfall, only to promptly expire once he reached the top.

It might actually be preferable to standing in one place, which was driving him mad.

Erik knew _everything._ More than that, he even seemed to believe him. Rowan figured it would take more than a handful of minutes for that to sink in completely.

He jumped as the door behind him creaked open. Erik peeked out and shot a look up and down the corridor before grabbing Rowan’s arm and yanking him inside the room.

“What are you wearing?” Erik demanded.

Rowan looked down at the tunic he’d chosen. While it was still of nice cut and quality fabric, it was the most unprincely thing that had been allowed to stay in his wardrobe. No one had listened to his repeated protestations that he didn’t need or want fancy garb. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You look exactly like what you are: a prince trying to sneak out. Seriously, Rowan, it’s not even a dark color.” Erik shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _‘absolute shit at stealth’_ under his breath before he turned to examine the room. Without warning, he strode over to the window and ripped down the curtain.

“Because no one’s going to notice _that,”_ Rowan deadpanned as Erik made his way back over.

“Shut it,” Erik scolded lightly. He stepped in closer and tossed the stolen fabric over Rowan’s shoulders. Rowan watched, mildly fascinated as Erik shifted around him, tugging the curtain down in some places before finally pulling a length of it up over Rowan’s head and fashioning it into a hood.

“There,” Erik sounded pleased with himself. When he let his hand fall away, his knuckles grazed Rowan’s cheek in a featherlight touch; brief enough that while Rowan couldn’t tell whether or not it was intentional, it still stole his breath, all the same.

“This,” Rowan announced, only a little shakily, “is a _window dressing.”_

Erik smirked. “Huh. Not even a month in and you already sound like a snob.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Won’t someone notice?”

“No one expects the Prince of Dundrasil to be wearing rags, no. That’s the point. Keep up.” Erik slung his bag over one shoulder before donning his own hood. The sight made Rowan’s heart ache with a nostalgia so potent it threatened to suffocate him. “What’s that face for?”

Rowan realized too late he’d plastered on what had to be a dopey sort of grin. “Nothing. It’s just, you know. Sneaking around, hoods up, it’s like when we first met.”

The corners of Erik’s mouth twitched upwards. “Yeah, only I think I could do without shouts of ‘Darkspawn’ and being shot at by crossbows and magic.”

“We could avoid that part, sure.”

“So run this plan of yours by me one more time,” Erik backed towards the door while he spoke. He kept dropping his hands to his belt, checking his knives and other assorted odds and ends; it was a nervous tell if Rowan had ever seen one. “You want to talk to the Seer, and to do that, we’ve got to snag an old staff from the weapon’s room?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” Rowan agreed.

“I don’t know. The Seer seems like the kind of guy who just shows up when he wants to,” Erik leaned back against the door when he reached it. He tucked one of his thumbs into his belt. The other hand waved as he asked, “you think we’re going to be able to summon him, just like that?”

“I do,” Rowan followed him. With Erik’s hood up, Rowan couldn’t clearly see his eyes - he could only see the tilt of smirking lips, the pale column of his throat. The urge to tip his head back and press his mouth to the beating pulse point of Erik’s neck was enough to drive him to distraction. Rowan gave his head a hasty shake and laid his hand on the doorknob at Erik’s side. “I, uh. The last time I spoke with the Seer, they said I’d asked for their help before, somehow. And believe it or not, there’s not a whole lot to do on Mount Pang Lai but study and freeze, so I did a lot of research, and I think I get it now. I think I know who she - or _he_ \- is, or used to be, at least.”

Erik took a few moments to respond. “And our running off to Angri-La is?”

“A contingency plan, if I can’t get him to talk to me in a dream. But it’s better to leave now, while-”

“While we can,” Erik finished for him, his voice low. “Got it.”

“Ready?” Rowan dropped his voice to match. “Think you can steal another artifact from another castle?”

Rowan saw the white flash of his grin. Erik’s fingers came up to tug on Rowan’s makeshift hood. “Well, something tells me that even if I get caught, the prince of this land won’t let me rot in jail too long.”

“What would be the point? I know you’d only tunnel out otherwise,” Rowan whispered.

Erik’s hand fell away, only to tentatively cover Rowan’s on the doorknob. “In that case, I don’t have much to lose, do I? Here goes nothing.”

 _Nothing,_ Rowan thought, his heart beating a wild rhythm in his chest, _has the oddest way of feeling like everything._

 

 

Rowan could admit that stealth and thievery were not skills he counted among his strong suits.

As Erik knelt before the armory door, lock picks in hand and an extra clenched in his teeth, Rowan stood over his shoulder. He glanced down the hallway every few seconds and was positively sweating in his curtain-cloak.

“The watchman will be back this way any minute,” he hissed, “are you almost done?”

“Give me a minute,” Erik grumbled, his words garbled. He leaned closer to the lock, eyes narrowed as he turned his hand ever so slightly. Rowan heard a click.

Erik grinned. “Got it.” He spat the metal pick into his hand before shoving all the tools back into his bag.”Told you. You were worried for nothing.”

Rowan slipped a hand under Erik’s elbow and hauled him up from the floor. “I never doubted you,” he swore. If it sounded too earnest for what the jest called for, he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Let’s go.”

“After you, my liege,” Erik murmured. When Rowan shot him a sour look, Erik bit his lip and failed to hide a smirk.

Rowan glanced down the hall once more before sliding inside the open doorway, tugging Erik along by the sleeve. “It should be over here.”

He crept forward only to meet resistance. He turned to find Erik stopped not too far from the entrance, eyes wide. Rowan was certain his fingers were itching to stuff his pockets.

He couldn’t have stopped his grin if he tried. “Would you stay focused?” Rowan gave him another perfunctory yank. Erik went along easily enough.

“I _am_ focused,” he insisted, before pointing at the far wall. “Is that not what you’re looking for?”

Rowan followed his gaze, relief flooding in when he spotted Mordegon’s staff. “That’s it!” he crowed.

At Erik’s horrified look, Rowan promptly slapped a hand over his own mouth. His muffled _‘sorry’_ came out far more quietly between his fingers.

“You’re bad at this,” Erik said under his breath as he walked over to claim the old, knotted staff from the wall. “You’re lucky you had me when we were on the run, otherwise you never would have made it out of Heliodor.”

He looked so pleased with himself, Rowan wanted to kiss the smug smile off his face. “I do know that, trust me.”

Erik turned to face him then, his mouth open and words on his tongue as his smirk melted away into something softer but far more serious. He licked his lips, and Rowan couldn’t help but stare. “Listen-” Erik started, only to break off, alarm flickering over his face.

Rowan heard it then. Footsteps in the hall, the creak of a door being pushed open.

“Shit,” Erik hissed. Rowan felt Erik’s fingers twist into his curtain-cloak before he pushed him into the shadows. His back hit the wall behind them. Rowan fumbled to catch the staff Erik thrust into his hands, seconds before they were nose to nose. Erik’s chest bumped his, and their heartbeats slammed together.

Rowan drew in a sharp breath. Erik cast one last look over his shoulder before laying a finger over Rowan’s lips. Rowan promptly stopped breathing.

In the dark, Erik’s eyes had almost no color, even when they were transfixed on his own. “Shh,” Erik breathed. The displaced air between them stirred the hair that fell in Rowan’s face. Erik’s lips shaped the order, “don’t move.”

He couldn’t have, even if he wanted to.

For a moment, then another, neither of them made a sound. Even Erik seemed to be holding his breath. Rowan heard a distant crash, and in front of him, Erik tensed. He stayed utterly still until the watchman’s footsteps faded away.

Erik’s shoulders slumped. He looked back and waited until the door closed before he let out a sigh. “That was close,” he whispered.

Rowan still didn’t move as Erik turned to face him. He watched as Erik’s eyes widened when they lifted to his, just a fraction, before dropping lower. Rowan gripped the staff between them so tightly his nails cut into his palms. Anything that would help ensure he kept his hands to himself, unless he was asked otherwise.

As close as they were, beneath his hood Rowan could see Erik’s lashes framing his cheeks, his skin washed of color in the shadows.

 _There’s no one more beautiful in this world,_ Rowan thought.

He’d seen a great deal of the world. He felt he had some manner of authority on the subject.

Rowan wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch; to kiss him fervently in the dark, to hear his name on a shaking breath, to make Erik come apart between his hands.

“We should go,” Rowan whispered instead, his lips moving against Erik’s index finger. He watched, magnetized, as the other boy’s eyes went darker still. “Before he comes back.”

Erik let go of a slow, ragged exhale. For an instant, he touched Rowan with just a hint more pressure, a faint mockery of a stolen kiss, before he let his hands fall away. “Good thinking,” he murmured, his voice husky.

Rowan wondered if his knees would be able to carry him from the room. They still had a long way to go.

_Yggdrasil help me._

 

 

They managed to make it outside - halfway down the stairs, even - when a voice from behind stopped them both in their tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Rowan stood frozen between steps. Erik glanced his way with a distinctly _caught_ expression before turning around. “Could you keep it down?” he hissed.

“Like the entire castle can’t hear you two giggling,” Mia scoffed. She scanned them both with a critical eye before asking delicately, “Rowan, are you wearing a blanket?”

“A curtain, actually,” Erik informed her, looking only a little put-out. “Listen, we’ve got to clear out before it gets light and this place starts crawling, so if you don’t mind, I _did_ leave you a note-”

“A _note?!”_

“Told you,” Rowan stage whispered. Erik shot him a dry look.

“Where are you going?” Mia demanded. “Why can’t I go?”

Erik closed the gap between them and dropped his hands on her shoulders. Positioned on different stairs, they were nearly the same height. “Look, we’re just running a quick errand, alright? We’ll be back in no time. So will you do me a favor and just hang out with Jade in the morning, distract her a bit, maybe wait ‘til around midday to tell everyone we’ve gone on a trip?”

Mia’s eyes narrowed. “So you two are sneaking out _alone,_ with some weird stick you found in the armory - yeah, I saw that,” she added in response to Erik’s sputtering, “who do you think got the guard’s attention so you could get out?” She shook her head. “And you want me to not ask questions, stay behind and, what? Try to keep everyone else from asking questions for as long as possible?”

Erik glanced Rowan’s way, one eyebrow arched high.

Rowan shrugged.

“Yeah, that’d be good actually,” Erik told her, offering a smile.

Mia glared at him. “Fine. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Let me talk to Rowan.”

Rowan blinked. “Me?”

“Why?” Erik asked, looking thrown.

“You’re the only Rowan here, are you not?” Mia rested her hands on her hips. “Go on, Erik.”

Erik was still frowning when Rowan stepped back up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go and get Atlas from the stables?” he murmured. “He’ll come to you if you offer him carrots.”

“Fine,” Erik conceded. He cast one last suspicious gaze at his sister before giving her a light chuck under the chin. “Be good while I’m gone, yeah?”

Mia swatted his hand. “Sure, whatever.”

Heavy silence fell over them as Erik jogged down the steps. He looked over his shoulder no less than four times before heading off in the direction of the stables.

“So what is it you want to talk to me about?” Rowan asked.

Mia watched until Erik was out of her sight completely before turning to Rowan and thrusting a finger into his chest. “Don’t you break his heart again,” she growled.

Rowan opened his mouth only for no words to come out.

“I don’t know what you guys are up to, or where you’re going, but if you hurt him again, I swear - prince or not, you’re going to have me to answer to, got it? I know how to use a knife now, don’t think I won’t.”

“I - yeah, noted,” Rowan said hastily, but Mia was shaking her head.

“I _mean_ it.”

Rowan considered her for a moment before dropping swiftly to one knee and laying a fist over his heart. “I swear-”

“What is that?” Mia sounded appalled. “What are you doing?”

“You want my word?” Rowan asked, looking up at her. “I’ll swear it. I’m training to be a knight, you know, and a knight’s word is his bond. Trust me, I never want to hurt him again, and I’ll do my best not to - I mean, I might piss him off now and then, but I’ll swear to you that I won’t-”

“Break his heart,” Mia cut in, arms crossed over her chest.

It made something in his chest ache. “Break his heart,” Rowan echoed, “I promise I’ll never break his heart again.”

Mia’s hand came to rest on the top of his head. When he looked up, she offered him the slightest of smiles. “Go on then,” she told him, “he’s waiting for you. Try to bring him back in one piece, okay?”

Rowan put two fingers to his brow, a salute. “Always.”

 

 

When Rowan found Erik, he was sitting on the fence post feeding Atlas a carrot with one hand, his other sliding over the horse’s neck. The sight made Rowan smile. “He likes you.”

“Good thing too, if he’s going to be dragging us to Zwaardsrust,” Erik said, “where are we going to leave him, though?”

“The dockmaster at the coast is a friend of Rab’s. For a bit of coin, I’m sure he’ll stable him at the Warrior’s Rest until we get back.”

“The perks of being a prince,” Erik glanced his way. “What did Mia say to you?”

Rowan walked towards the tack wall and shot a cheeky smirk over one shoulder. “That’s a secret,” he teased, reaching for a bridle. When he turned back around, Erik wasn’t laughing. His brows knitted together, his expression shifting into something almost...uneasy.

Rowan nearly kicked himself. With everything they’d been through over the course of the night alone, he didn’t want the tentative peace to end and certainly didn’t want to be the one to do it. “Listen, I-”

“What have we here? Is our illustrious prince taking a trip?”

Erik swore and nearly lost his grip on the fence, he startled so badly. Rowan spun around to watch Jasper emerge from the shadows, a flame dancing in the palm of his hand. For a moment, the three simply stared at each other.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Why have you chosen to dress in some manner of...table linen?”

Erik groaned aloud.

“It’s a curtain,” Rowan said, struggling not to laugh. “We’ve, uh, got somewhere to go.”

Jasper’s eyes flicked between them before settling on Rowan. “So you’ll be missing your morning lesson, I take it,” he drawled.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Rowan begged, “we’ll be back in no more than two weeks time, I swear.”

Jasper rolled his eyes toward the clouds with a long-suffering sigh. “Remember to keep your chest guarded in combat,” he said imperiously, “and do be sure to return in good health. I shall certainly lose my post otherwise.”

Rowan’s mouth quirked into a grin. “Your concern is touching, really.”

“Begone you witless guttersnipe, before I regain my senses and drag you by the ear to your grandfather. Or better still, the Princess,” Jasper closed his fingers, dousing the light in his hand even as he threatened.

“Thanks,” Rowan told him. Jasper turned and walked away, shaking his head all the while. When Rowan turned back around, he realized Erik had watched the entire exchange, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Erik stayed silent. Rowan kept glancing his way as he slipped Atlas’s bridle over his head. After several minutes passed in much the same manner and nerves prickled under Rowan’s skin, he looked up at him. “If you’ve got something to say, don’t hold it back.”

Erik wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You two are friends,” he said finally, sounding dubious.

“I mean, I don’t know that we’re friends,” Rowan hedged, “more like we tolerate each other, at best-”

“You trust him,” Erik started, “I’ve never understood why. After everything he’s done-” he broke off when an audible edge sharpened his voice. Rowan watched frustration break through his carefully composed expression.

Rowan took a step closer until Erik looked up and met his eye. “I didn’t start to trust him until he saved my life on Mount Huji, as well as Veronica’s. He didn’t have to, but he risked his life to save ours.”

Erik made a face, and Rowan continued. “Look, I’m not...I’m not saying he never did anything wrong. He _did._ I’ll never truly forgive him for this-” he lifted a hand and let one finger come to rest over the neck of Erik’s tunic, right above the scar on his chest. Erik was watching him, brows furrowed. _“Never._ I just think...I don’t know, we’re all capable of awful things, but we can do better, if we try. If no one’s allowed to do better, then no one can ever really change.”

“And you think he’s changed, now,” Erik said. He still sounded skeptical, and Rowan didn’t blame him. He thought it might not matter so much if Erik didn’t understand Jasper. He only wanted Erik to understand _him,_ to be able to look at Rowan after without the slightest hint of betrayal in his eyes.

“I think he’s trying to. Mordegon looked for people who were desperate, who needed help. He offered them darkness disguised as the thing they wanted most. Jasper wasn’t the only one Mordegon changed,” Rowan said carefully, “and I just thought maybe if someone tried to help him, he could change again.”

“And you thought this _before_ you saved his life, up at Yggdrasil?” Erik asked, frowning.

“Well, no,” Rowan set to straightening Atlas’s reins, to give his hands something to do. “Honestly, I only saved his life that day because Hendrik was there, and I...I didn’t want him to have to watch again. I saw what it did to him the first time Jasper died at his feet. I know what it’s like to see someone you love die-” Rowan swallowed, and Erik’s expression softened, “-and to think that maybe you could have done better, to believe you could have stopped it, somehow. So this time, I did.”

Erik was quiet for a minute. “You think Hendrik loved him, then?”

“I know he loved him, as a brother at least,” Rowan said. “But I think Jasper loved him differently, and it ate away at him. That kind of pain is easy to use, so when Mordegon came along, it wasn’t so hard to twist that love into hate.”

Erik looked away. He gave one forced, humorless laugh. “And you’re sure you two aren’t friends? You sure give him a good defense.”

Rowan sighed. “I’m not _defending_ him, I guess I just...understand him a bit, that’s all.”

 _We aren’t so different, you and I._ Jasper had said it to him so long ago, in the dungeons beneath Heliodor, but as time went on Rowan had come to wonder if it wasn’t at least a little true.

At one point, the both of them had lead with their hearts and suffered for it. Each of them had offered themselves to the world to be used, with only their allegiances differing - Jasper had aligned himself to darkness while Rowan was forged in light.

Rowan tried for a smile, desperate to reclaim the earlier levity of the night. “Believe it or not, in the other timeline, you eventually didn’t hate him _quite_ so much, either.”

Erik hopped down from the fence. “We should get going,” he suggested, his tone neutral. “We’ve probably got only a few hours before the sun comes up.”

With a heart heavier than it’d been only an hour before, Rowan mounted his horse and held out a hand to pull Erik up behind him. When Erik’s hands settled over his waist, there was a careful gap between them that he’d hoped had been on its way to closing.

 _At least he’s still with me,_ Rowan thought. He urged his horse towards the woods, and told himself that at least they were together, they were moving forward instead of taking steps back, and that could be enough.

 

 

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, turning the sky from black to muted orange. They had nearly made it into the wheat fields of Zwaardsrust when Rowan noticed that every few minutes, Erik would tilt forward, closer to his back. After a second, he’d startle and sit back up, adjusting his seating on Atlas.

 _He’s falling asleep,_ Rowan realized.

The Inn wasn’t too far away, but it would be a few miles still.

“Hey, let’s take a minute,” Rowan suggested, casting a glance over his shoulder. Behind him, Erik shook his head.

“No, we’ve got to get to the docks if we want to find a boat to take us over the Inland Sea.” His voice sounded raspy, his accent thicker with exhaustion.

“I know that, but the Warrior’s Rest will be coming up soon. You didn’t get much sleep before we left,” Rowan argued.

“I didn’t get any sleep,” Erik corrected, “too busy reading someone’s love letters.”

Rowan flushed crimson. He tugged on the reins, pulling Atlas to a stop. Erik bobbed in place at his back and nearly lost his seat when Rowan hopped down to the ground. “Well then we’ll just stop for a quick break, you can-”

Erik sighed. “Rowan, I’m fine. I’ve gone longer without shut-eye, believe me.”

Rowan chewed on his bottom lip. “Well if you don’t want to stop, switch with me.” When Erik raised an eyebrow, he continued, ducking his head to hide the lingering blush on his skin. “You sit in front. That way, um, if you fall asleep, I can hold you up so you won’t slow us down by falling off the horse.”

He looked up in time to catch Erik’s dry look.

“If you’re going to be stubborn, at least this way you can get some rest, and we can keep moving and make it to the docks before midday.”

Erik was watching him, one hand absently tangling through Atlas’s mane. “You’re gonna make me, huh?”

As the weight of his words registered, Rowan went very still.

Above him, silhouetted by the sunrise, Erik grimaced. “Yeah, shit. That, uh. Sounded more like a joke in my head.”

“I won’t do that again,” Rowan murmured. He pushed a booted foot into the dirt and studied the track it made with intensity. “You can trust me, I-”

Erik’s hand covered Rowan’s where he gripped the reins, effectively cutting off his rambling. “Hey, I know that,” he told him. “There’s no one I trust more, alright? Hell, I even get why you did it.”

Rowan blinked. “You do?”

Erik shrugged and kept his voice level. “If I thought you were going to die?” he pushed a hand through his hair and sighed. “And you insisted on doing whatever it was? Well, I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t knock you out, too. Just, you know. Don’t do it again.”

Rowan offered the slightest of smiles, and Erik’s hand tightened around his.

“Look at it this way, then,” Rowan said after a moment, “if we run into monsters on the way, you’re not going to be much help falling asleep in your seat.”

Erik huffed. The expression that crossed his face was blasé even as he shifted forward on Atlas. “If you’re worried about my _battle readiness,_ Your Highness-”

Rowan threw back his head with a groan. “Please, Goddess Above, _do not_ start calling me that.” When Erik only smirked, he continued, “I’m worried about _you._ So you ride up front, and I’ll watch your back. And if you fall asleep,” Rowan shrugged, “well, I’ll catch you.”

“Romantic,” Erik teased, and Rowan’s cheeks flooded with color once more. “Fine,” he said, his gaze darting towards the sun. “Only for a bit, okay?”

Rowan smiled wide and accepted Erik’s offered hand. He swung himself back up onto the horse’s back. “Whatever you want.”

He slid forward until his legs bracketed Erik’s hips, his arms on either side of him to hold the reins. He shifted around before settling his chin on Erik’s shoulder, and thought he noticed a shiver slide down Erik’s spine. “You’re gonna have to scrunch down a little so I can see.”

Erik made a derisive noise. “This was your idea,” he complained, even as he sank down as low as he could manage. The back of his head came to rest against Rowan’s shoulder as he reached up and pulled his hood low to shield his eyes from the light.

He was warm, in every spot they touched.

After some adjusting, Rowan clicked his tongue to get Atlas moving.

“I always trusted you, you know,” Erik mumbled, already sounding like he was drifting off. “I never stopped.”

Rowan wished he could see his face. “That’s good to know,” he said, his voice soft.

Erik said something else, an incomprehensible mutter. Within moments the ever-present tension he carried drained out of him, and he relaxed against Rowan fully, Erik’s back lined up to his front.

After another minute, when he didn’t pull away, Rowan smiled. He shifted just enough to bear more of Erik’s weight so he could rest comfortably, and let his horse lead them towards the steadily rising sun.

* * *

* * *

 

All at once, Rowan couldn’t see a thing.

He was surrounded by black. When he threw his hands out, groping blindly in all directions, there was nothing to grab on to.

He pushed himself to his feet, disoriented by the dark. He snapped his fingers and summoned a tiny ball of flame, bathing himself in a faint glow. He still couldn’t see well, but upon further inspection, there didn’t seem much to see; only a large wooden door and a plain white sheet on the ground before him.

“What-” Rowan mumbled, only to jump as a loud knock sounded on the door.

It banged three times - _knock, knock, knock_ \- before the odd room fell silent around him once more.

Rowan stared at it. He swiped damp palms across the lap of his tunic before slowly crossing the floor. As he reached out to touch the knob, he hesitated. He felt a knot twist in his stomach, a heavy prickle of foreboding climb up his spine.

When he grabbed the handle and flung the door open, there was no one on the other side.

His shoulders slumped, tension fleeing almost immediately. He felt foolish for being afraid. Without further delay, he crossed over the threshold and walked outside into the night.

Rowan felt safer, under the stars.

He let his feet carry him onward without a thought for his destination other than _away._ Away from the dark room, away from the disembodied knocks on the door. As he traversed an uneven stone path into nothing but trees, he was struck with the sudden realization that he wanted to wake up.

Erik wasn’t waiting for him in his dreams anymore.

He stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. After a moment, he slit one open. He was still in the woods.

Rowan frowned. That had worked before, the one time he’d tried it.

He took another step forward, only for a hooded figure to sweep into his path. Rowan threw a hand back, fingers searching for the hilt of a sword only to come up with nothing.

A pale, long-fingered hand reached up and drew the hood away from its face, revealing sickly skin tinged violet and two pointed black horns. Rowan fell back, splaying his hands out to slow his descent. He hit the ground hard - at any other time, it would have hurt.

The man before him leaned forward with a cruel smile, foul breath falling into Rowan’s face when he opened his mouth.

“Your time is running out, Luminary,” Mordegon told him, his words a dark, silky caress. He grabbed Rowan’s arm, fingers wrapping his wrist as he held the marked hand aloft. Rowan jerked away, but couldn’t get free. “What will you sacrifice at the end, I wonder, to find what you seek?”

“I-” Rowan started, eyes wide. “I don’t-”

Mordegon only grinned. “Go. He won’t wait much longer.”

He pressed a sharp-nailed finger to the center of Rowan’s forehead, and Rowan hissed at the odd, searing sensation that followed. Even as he forced his eyes open, he couldn’t quite find any light.


	20. Chapter 19: Compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple things - for the next few chapters that have memories in the beginning, they're not in any sort chronological order as they've been so far. I've tried to make it easy to figure out WHEN the memory is taking place within the scene, but hopefully this little warning will ease your reading endeavors. Also, this mess is now one chapter longer. Someone stop me.  
> Anyway, much love, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this one.

* * *

 

_Chapter 19: Compass_

 

_If we make it out alive from the depths of the seas_

_Compass points you anywhere, closer to me_

_Where you are, I will be_

_Miles high, in the deep_

_Anywhere in between_

_I will take the pieces, put them back together_

* * *

 

_I had a dream about you last night. Not like the ones I used to have, though. Well maybe it was a bit like ONE of them_

Rowan bit down on his lip. He closed his eyes for a moment. It didn’t take much to call that particular dream back to mind; he could all but feel Erik’s weight over him, could almost remember the thread of fingers through his hair. Rowan felt his face flush scarlet and scratched the words out until they were illegible.

“What nonsense are you scribbling now?”

He jumped before looking up from the parchment between his knees. With a resigned sort of stoicism, he ran his fingers through his newly shorn hair and stuck his writing utensil behind his ear. He folded his paper in half, then quarters, before tucking it safely away into his tunic. “More of the same, Grand Master,” he told her as he staggered to his feet.

His rear end was numb from sitting on the icy stones, but overall, he’d grown accustomed to the cold. Rowan wondered idly if time would be all it took to grow used to the hollow in his chest, or if that would always be an ache, not so different from the way his left arm throbbed when the weather turned. It was just a different type of scar, a wound that would stay with him.

Pang made an impatient, derisive noise. “Correspondence, then,” she started. “If you have such a great deal to speak of and so much time for penning it, perhaps I am not keeping you as busy as I should be.”

Rowan dropped his gaze to the ground. Were it not for the fact that Pang’s idea of ‘busy’ meant more meditation he’d welcome the distraction, but he had more than enough time to be alone with his thoughts as it was.

He swallowed a sigh. “I’m ready for our lesson. Is it more magic today?”

“Not so,” she said firmly. “Your magical abilities will never be prodigious, on their own. I have accepted this, you must as well.”

Rowan frowned.

“But for that,” she indicated to his hand with a nod. “With that mark, you have the opportunity to call down a power far greater than your own, as I’m sure you’ve noticed on occasion.”

“I- yeah,” Rowan answered, tugging on the hem of his tunic. “It tends to work when I need it to, most of the time.”

Pang folded her hands and started to walk away. Rowan nearly slid through the dusting of snow in his haste to follow. She started speaking without turning back to check if he was keeping pace. “We will focus our time together instead on learning about the specific powers granted to you by your mark, and how best to harness them. Today, there is one ritual I wish to teach you. As the incarnation of the Luminary, and such an incompetent one at that, there may still come a day when you must seek guidance from your betters, from those who have passed into the beyond.”

Rowan blinked but said nothing. He’d learned quickly it was easier to simply listen.

“There exists a stop between worlds after life has fled, yet before death has come. Tell me, child, have you heard of the Void?”

 _I’ve been there,_ Rowan thought. He managed to stop himself from saying it aloud only seconds before the words found a way out of this mouth. “I’ve, uh, heard bits and pieces.”

She shot him an unimpressed look and continued on. “It is the waiting ground for spirits, the final step before the dead return to Yggdrasil. Many linger there, benevolent souls or otherwise, who remain tied to life, caught in between with business left unfinished. Unable to move forth, unable to return. I will show you how to make a connection, should you so choose, once you’ve achieved the proper preparation and focus.”

Rowan paused in his steps, frowning at the back of the Grand Master’s head. He couldn’t deny she’d piqued his curiosity - while he hoped he wouldn’t find himself with cause to revisit the Void, it might not hurt to know _how._ After a few seconds, he asked, “What would I need?”

“To be able to meditate properly for more than five minutes without staring longingly into space, as a start,” she chided.

Rowan grimaced and fiddled with the pen behind his ear. She glanced back at him before speaking again. “To call forth a departed spirit, many use an item of personal significance, to act as a focus. I would suggest you follow this practice as well. You would also need a tether to the world of the living. Something - or indeed, perhaps _someone_ \- to act as a guide to bring you back. It is all too easy to be lost in the Void, and with a magic as ancient and unpredictable as yours, many would long to keep you there. One requires a compass of a sort,” she offered what could almost be construed as a smile. “For it has been said that if one knows to find true north, then you shall always be able to find your way.”

As they reached the Field of Discipline, Rowan scuffed the sole of his sandal into the snow until his toes stung with the cold. “I don’t know what I’d use,” he admitted.

Pang was watching him with an intensity he could _feel,_ a brand between his shoulder blades. “Have you nothing you love, Rowan? Nothing for which you’d return from death itself?”

Rowan went still. His chest felt tight again; the feeling fled, sometimes. It would be absent so long he’d begin to believe it might be gone completely until it returned with ferocity, as sharp and fresh as it’d been on the warm summer day when his heart had left him. “I...do,” he said slowly, “but that person isn’t around, anymore.”

Pang’s expression softened, though it was so faint, so indiscernible that he wondered if he’d imagined it. “Ah. I have wondered how you spend so much time writing and yet, you receive no word back. Is this person deceased?”

She asked it so bluntly he couldn’t help but flinch. “No, he’s not. Just...gone.”

Pang nodded once and turned to face the mountain, her hands clasped at the small of her back. “You may take my advice, or you may not. But grieving the things we cannot change and refuse to accept is a weight that will only grow heavier until one day, you find yourself buried beneath it. There can be strength in letting go.”

Rowan stared at the ground, blinking rapidly. His toes were an angry red, and he wondered how many monks were missing digits. “So I should just give up?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Not give up. That is not what I said, foolish child,” she said, but there was an affection in her voice that eased the bite. “There is a strength in letting go when it is time and courage in determining when to hold fast when the time changes. I should think the boy who fought Mordegon and Calasmos both would have courage in spades.” The corner of her mouth curved, and Rowan felt his own shy smile bloom in response.

“I don’t know about courage,” Rowan told her. “Insanity, maybe.”

Her smile stretched. “The wind blows in more ways than one. But only you can make the decision for yourself.”

Rowan let out a deep breath. It hung in front of him in a white fog for only a second before dissipating. “So say I’ve got someone I’d come back from death for. What would I do next?”

“Come, Prince of Dundrasil. We’ve much work to do.”

* * *

* * *

 

Rowan came awake to the ground listing beneath his back and something soft beneath his cheek. His heart was racing, the dregs of fear still coursing through his blood, but there were fingertips dancing over his brow and sliding back into his hair. Nails scraped gently over his scalp, and Rowan forgot his dream completely for all the effort it took to not purr audibly at the feeling.

When he’d fallen asleep on the ship the night before, it had not been with his head in Erik’s lap, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t more than happy to wake up that way.

Rowan opened one eye and peeked. He was, in fact, using Erik’s thigh as a pillow - Erik leaned back against cargo crates, his other leg bent at the knee with one arm slung over it. The hand that wasn’t absently tangling in Rowan’s hair held one of his letters.

Something about the sight lit Rowan from the inside out, but the warmth gave way rather abruptly when Rowan’s gaze settled on Erik’s face.

He looked so _troubled_ by the words before him.

A lump rose in Rowan’s throat that threatened to stop his breath. When he swallowed, perhaps louder than he’d meant, Erik startled. The hand in Rowan’s hair stilled but didn’t fall away. He stuffed the letter into a pocket, out of sight, before looking down with a faint color staining his cheeks. “Uh, sleep good?”

Rowan let his eyes roam over Erik’s face, searching for any hint of.. _.something._ He wasn’t entirely sure what, but as the rush of excitement brought about by the unexpected adventure had begun to fade away the day before, Rowan had noticed Erik drawing slowly further and further into himself. He knew that look; Erik was going in circles around something in his head, and had found a conclusion that clearly bothered him. Rowan tried not to let doubt crawl back in, but despite his best efforts, he could still feel the barest flames of hope twisting in the wind.

“I - yeah,” Rowan answered. He stayed where he was for a moment more. When the urge to nuzzle his nose into Erik’s hip became unbearable, he pushed himself up from the floor, his back aching furiously in protest. He raised his arms above his head, stretching limbs that had grown used to a bed instead of the ground. Dundrasil had spoiled him.

Erik’s hand slipped from his hair to the back of his neck. It lingered there for what might have been the most exhilarating moment of Rowan’s fairly young life before falling away. Erik curled his fingers into a loose fist and tucked it into his other hand instead.

“Are you okay?” Rowan murmured.

Erik looked away. “Me? Yeah, I’m good. I slept a little.”

“That’s not what I-”

“So did you dream about the Seer?” Erik interrupted. Rowan let his mouth snap closed. “Did you talk to him?”

Rowan blinked, his nightmare rushing back in and bringing the pinpricks of anxiety with it. He bit down on his bottom lip. “No. The Seer didn’t...no.”

“I guess we’ve got to go up Mount Pang Lai after all then, huh? Here I was hoping to avoid the snow,” Erik said. When he lifted a hand to his hair, his sleeve slipped down and revealed a glint of silver.

“Sorry.” Rowan’s mouth pulled up in the slightest of smiles. He reached out and tapped his fingers over the watch around Erik’s wrist. “That’s new.”

Erik followed his gaze before rising to his feet. “Mia got it for me.”

“Got it for you,” Rowan echoed, amused. “You mean she stole it.” He made a move to stand as well, and realized his mistake quickly when the boat shifted and he pitched forward.

Erik’s hands came up under Rowan’s elbows for support even as he laughed. “I can’t take you anywhere,” he mused. “You’ll never find your sea legs.”

Rowan pressed his face into Erik’s shoulder, fingers wrapped in his tunic as he breathed through his nose and waited for the dizziness to pass. “That’s not true,” he mumbled, the words muffled.

Even after two days of constant traveling, Erik still smelled like home.

“Sure,” he clapped him on the back. Rowan could hear the smirk in Erik’s voice. “Considering the fact that you manage to get seasick while we’re docked.”

“I’m fine,” Rowan insisted. “Just tripped, is all.”

Erik snorted. “Come on. We’ve got a hike if we want to make it to the summit.”

 

“Monsters ahead,” Erik read from the sign outside the Summit Tunnel with a drawling tone that was every bit as bored as it was tired. “Keep out. Well, that sounds promising.”

Rowan rubbed his hands over his arms to keep warm and fought a smile. “You know, Erik. If you’re worried, I can protect you.”

Erik shot him a sardonic look even as his mouth twitched to hold in a laugh. “Oh yeah? Sure, we’ll see about that.” He gave Rowan’s shoulder a playful shove. “Let’s get moving.”

Rowan pulled his sword free of its sheath and held it loosely at his hip as they trudged inside the cave, side by side. The staff strapped between his shoulders bumped into the back of his knees; he wasn’t used to carrying one and was certain he’d have bruises by the time they were done with their trek.

“Honestly, it wasn’t so bad the last time I came through here. Some dragons, the occasional archer. Nothing we haven’t faced before,” Rowan assured him.

“Oh, well. If it’s only _dragons,”_ Erik waved a hand. “Then we’re in good shape.”

Rowan bumped Erik’s arm with his own. “I think you might actually enjoy this part. Help me keep an eye out for one of the smaller ones, with a monster riding it.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

Before he could answer, the ceiling of the cave gaped open wide overhead. Stalactites hung high above, framing the steep cliff face that lay before them. Rowan simply pointed.

Erik tilted his head back and looked up with a mildly exasperated frown. “You’re dramatically overestimating my climbing skills if you think - wait,” he reached out and closed a hand around Rowan’s elbow. “There’s one of your guys, right? Over there by the water?”

Rowan followed his gaze and found his target. He raised his sword. “I’ll draw his attention, then?” he suggested.

Erik drew his knives, coolly assessing their surroundings. “Sounds good to me. Just the rider?”

Rowan nodded his assent, and without further discussion, Erik melted away into the shadows of the cavern. It was all the planning they needed.

He’d missed it, as odd a thing as it was - the way the two of them could share a conversation in only a handful of gestures, how they could divine what the other was thinking from little more than a glance. There was a sort of comfort in their rhythm, like harmonizing notes in a well-loved song.

Rowan took off at a run towards his quarry, making no effort to stay quiet as he stomped through puddles. He ducked narrowly out of the path of a blast of fire and slid across the rocks in a manner that was more luck than skill. He felt the heat of the dragon’s breath pass his cheek.

The creature commanding it whirled around with a furious shout. Rowan grinned and held up a hand, and let lightning break loose from his fingertips.

Once all eyes were on him, the battle - if indeed it could be called one - did not last long.

With the flash of knives and a scream cut abruptly short, Erik tackled the rider and dispatched it with ease. The two hit the ground by the stream, and the dragon ceased its thrashing, immediately docile without someone at the reins.

Erik still took several backward steps away from it. He kept skeptical eyes on the creature even as he knelt down to run his knives through the water. Rowan sheathed his sword and walked over.

“You need to work on that footwork, man,” Erik told him lightly, “I saw how close you came to being cooked.”

Rowan’s mouth turned down in an indignant frown as he drew nearer and caught sight of a thin slice in the fabric over Erik’s shoulder. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

“Just a nick,” he protested. “His sword was sharper than I thought. I might have rolled onto it. It’s been a while, okay?”

Rowan shook his head and slipped two perfunctory fingers under the neck of Erik’s tunic and tugged it down in the back to expose the shallow wound across his shoulder blade. He pressed his other hand to the cut and called for healing magic without hesitating. Erik tensed under his touch, sucking in a harsh breath.

Instantly contrite, Rowan drew back slightly. “I - am I hurting you?”

“No,” Erik replied, his voice tight. After a second, he relaxed. His fingers came up to wrap Rowan’s wrist, pressing his hand back to where it was before he’d moved. “Go ahead.”

Rowan returned to his ministrations, brows knitted together. When the skin smoothed over, unbroken once more, he traced the pad of his finger over where the bloody line had marred it before hastily releasing him. He patted Erik’s tunic back into place.

“Right, let’s get up to that cliff,” he started, stepping over to the unmanned dragon and taking the reins in hand.

It wasn’t so unlike riding a horse, Rowan thought. It took some adjusting, certainly, to find a comfortable place to rest his knees without being in the way of beating wings, but he’d had enough experiences with this particular mount to feel confident enough.

Logistics aside, Rowan _really_ enjoyed flying a dragon.

Are you coming, or not?” he asked, offering Erik a broad, excited smile.

Erik was staring at him, incredulity written all over his face. “This is really your idea? Riding a dragon up to the summit?”

“Do you have a better one?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, it seemed. Erik broke out into a grin and jogged over. He threw a leg over the dragon’s back and clambered onto it behind him. Erik’s arm slid around his waist as he settled in, as close as the weaponry strapped to Rowan’s back would allow. Rowan glanced back at him to make sure he was seated before tugging on the dragon’s reins.

The monster responded instantly. Blue wings unfurled from its sides and they took to the air; behind him, Erik swore and let out a breathless laugh. His hand brushed Rowan’s ribs to grip his belt.

Rowan felt Erik lean in closer. “This is insane!” he shouted to be heard over the beat of wings, and his chin came to rest against the curve between Rowan’s neck and shoulder.

Rowan was grinning. “More so than flying on Cetacea?”

“I’m still not convinced that actually happened,” Erik retorted. Rowan laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days.

 

 

Once they touched back on solid ground and reluctantly left the dragon at the head of the narrowing path, they faced down a scatter of grublins before scaling the stairs to the summit. With every forward step, Rowan’s anticipation rose in kind. In mere moments, he’d sit at the mountain top shrine and call forth a lesson he never once thought he’d actually use. It was funny, Rowan thought, how things never quite managed to go to plan.

Only a pace behind him, Erik was quiet.

Up ahead, Rowan could see daylight through the gloom. The stairs leveled out into flat earth. Even the lingering musty smell began to fade in the face of fresh air. He took a deep breath and spun around to face Erik with a smile. “Are you ready?”

Erik was staring at the mouth of the cave. His face paled - countless emotions flew over his features, but the one that stuck out the most was _fear._ “I-”

Alarm, sharp and swift, was a shot to the gut. Rowan took a hasty step back to him, hands out in supplication. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Erik’s expression pinched. His eyebrows knitted together, and Rowan could see it clearly; how badly Erik wanted to wave it away and pretend he was _fine,_ just fine despite the fact that he seemed unable to find words, much less to take a step. He drew in two rapid breaths before managing to find his voice. “What if it - what if it doesn’t work? I just, if I don’t remember, will you still-” he broke off.

Rowan shifted closer to him, as cautiously as if he approached a wild thing. “Will I still what?” he asked, his voice going soft. He needed to hear the answer, likely more than he needed his next breath.

Erik looked up then, and Rowan could see his throat working as he swallowed, the strain of tension in his jaw before Erik met his eyes. “If I don’t remember,” he echoed, his voice ragged, “if I’m not him, will you still want me?”

Rowan wondered if this was what it felt like to fall through the sky, to reach desperately for something to hold on to in the descent. “What?” he whispered.

Erik made a small, aborted noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t make me say it again,” he said, the words coming out as brittle and cutting as glass.

Rowan took another tentative step until he could reach out and touch him, if he chose. “I just - I’m trying to understand. Who’s _him?”_

Erik threw out a hand, exasperated. His cheeks flushed pink. _“Him,_ the other me. The one from the other timeline,” his voice got smaller, quieter. “The one you loved.”

Rowan’s mouth fell open. After a second, he remembered to close it. Slowly, he lifted a hand to Erik’s face and brushed his fingertips over his cheek. Erik’s eyes drifted shut at his touch; some of the tightness fell out of his shoulders. Rowan lowered his hand to cradle Erik’s jaw.

“Hey, that’s not...you don’t get it,” Rowan began gently. “There is no other _you._ There’s just…what happened once, and what didn’t. If this works and you get those memories back, that’d be amazing. Sure, I want you to remember, and if you want to know, yeah. I want that. But if you don’t, it doesn’t...I will _always_ want you,” Rowan’s voice dropped low, rough around the edges.

Erik looked back at him, his eyes searching. Uncertainty was still written all over his face, but he looked shaken, too; like all the threads of every pessimistic belief he’d held onto were unraveling at once in his hands.

“Nothing changes that. No matter whether it’s this timeline or the other, or some other crazy universe, you’re it for me. _You.”_ Rowan held his gaze, rubbing his thumb over Erik’s chin. It was such a thrill, just to touch him again in the simplest of ways. “Come on, I know you read that letter,” Rowan added.

Erik let out an unsteady huff of laughter. “More than once,” he admitted.

Rowan offered a small smile. “Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is…” he paused, picking his words carefully. “That time you’re missing has no bearing on how I feel about you. We’re not only made up of the things we do and the things we don’t - we’ve got to have more pieces than that. I’m still me and you’re still you, and I love you so much that sometimes I can’t even _breathe_ past all the space you take up inside me. I just...love _you,_ no matter where time takes us,” Rowan vowed.

Erik’s eyes went wide. He was staring, riveted, and something about leaving Erik speechless made his nerves flare up and twisted his stomach into knots. Rowan rushed to fill the silence.

“So if it doesn’t work and you don’t remember, don’t worry about me. It’s okay. And if you don’t feel that way about me now, that’s okay too -” Rowan’s voice cracked. Erik’s hand came up to clutch at his shoulder, and his grip was fortifying. “It’s okay, because you’ve got me anyway. In whatever way you want, however you want, you will _always_ have me.”

The sounds of movement inside the cave around them fell to little more than a muted hum. Erik’s chest was heaving like he’d run for miles. His fingers twisted in Rowan’s tunic, and Rowan wondered when they’d drifted further into each other, how they’d gravitated so close without him noticing instantly.

Erik exhaled, and Rowan felt it against his cheek. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice gruff and barely audible.

“Every word,” Rowan murmured.

Erik swayed closer still, into his space. Their noses brushed in the lightest of touches, and Rowan’s breath hitched in his chest in a way that almost hurt.

“You’re something of a poet, you know,” Erik told him. Any other time it would have been teasing, were it not for Erik using his grip on Rowan’s shoulder to pull him in, to hold him there, as if he’d ever try to flee. “Until the sun dies away and the numbered stars all fade…”

Rowan thought he might fly out of his skin and splinter apart, lost to the winds like shrapnel. Everything he had inside - every bone, every muscle - was so focused on the scant space that still existed between their mouths that it took more than a moment for him to realize Erik was quoting his letter. He didn’t know what to do with his shaking hands.

Hesitantly, Rowan skimmed his nose over Erik’s cheek. “And probably even longer than that,” he whispered back.

Erik’s other hand fell onto the back of Rowan’s neck, his fingers finding a home long lost. Rowan’s eyes fluttered shut.

The world could collapse around them, and that would be fine. Rowan thought that, even if it were the last hour of his life, the very last moment, he could be okay with that. So long as this was how he got to spend it; breathing Erik’s air, skin on skin, and a heart begging to be returned where it belonged.

He was impossibly close and still so far, somehow. Erik seemed to hesitate, and the faintest of noises slipped from Rowan’s throat, something caught between a whine and a sigh. He leaned his forehead onto Erik’s.

“You want something from me, it’s yours,” Rowan murmured, his voice uneven. “Whatever you want, whatever you need. _Take it.”_

Erik’s fingers tensed on his skin before continuing a tortuous trek over the divots of his spine. Rowan heard Erik’s unsteady breath break free before he slid his hand into Rowan’s hair, clasped the back of his head, and dragged him down the rest of the way.

When their lips met, Rowan’s mouth opened on a gasp. Erik’s groan caught in his throat and Rowan’s entire body jerked at the sound. One hand flew to Erik’s shoulder, his fingers seeking purchase on the skin below his collar. His other found Erik’s hip and _yanked_ as a kiss that started rough turned rougher still.

Rowan was glad for it; he didn’t want gentleness, not yet. It’d been far too long for tender touches and steady hands.

He nipped at Erik’s lower lip, soothed the bite with the swipe of his tongue as hands sought skin. He was desperate to feel all of him, everything he could, before he blinked and the respite was stolen from him. Before he opened his eyes to realize it had only been a dream.

As if he’d been privy to the thought, Erik’s fingers tightened in his hair, a pleasure-pain that sent a shiver down Rowan’s spine. Rowan grinned against his mouth before breaking away to taste the spot below Erik’s ear, to drag his teeth over the softness there.

Erik melted against him. “You, uh-” he exhaled, a tattered sound. “You know what you’re doing.”

It might have been an accusation, but Rowan only traced Erik’s ear with his mouth. When he drew back to speak, it was little more than breathy panting. “I know how to kiss _you.”_

Something sparked in Erik’s eyes, more black than blue, before he leaned in and kissed him again, a slow and molten dismantling. For the first time in so long, Rowan felt truly awake: dreams couldn’t match the feeling of Erik’s hand fumbling at his waist, tugging his tunic up until he could slide his palm up Rowan’s back, a blazing comet trail in the wake of his touch. Memories paled in comparison to the sear of Erik’s mouth on his jaw, the insistent press of his hips.

When Erik’s teeth scraped Rowan’s throat, he let out a harsh breath as his head tipped back, unbidden. Erik sucked what was sure to leave a spectacular imprint on his collarbone before reclaiming his mouth. When his tongue found his, Rowan sank into him; a leg slipped between Erik’s, his hand dove under fabric to find bare skin. Erik was shaking under his touch, splintering apart in his arms, and Rowan finally remembered what it was to be suspended among the stars.

He must have leaned into him too much or Erik went actually weak at the knees; he tilted backward, muttering a curse before pulling Rowan down with him. One of Erik’s hands left him to find something to grab onto. He barely missed the cave wall behind them, and they both tumbled gracelessly to the ground.

Beneath him, Erik let out a breathless laugh. “Shit. _Ow.”_

Rowan lifted his head from where he’d dropped onto Erik’s chest. His mouth stretched into a lazy grin, even as his blood still burned. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you tomorrow when my ass is black and blue.”

Rowan shifted forward enough to nudge Erik’s nose with his, to graze his mouth over his lips. “You want me to check it for you?”

He felt Erik’s blooming smirk, only for him to pause, his shoulders tensing beneath Rowan’s hands. His mouth turned downward. “Did you hear something?”

Rowan drew back, but only just. “No, what did you-”

He heard it then. A tell-tale whistle, the second before an arrow hit the rock wall above their heads.

Erik’s eyes went wide. He might have opened his mouth to say something; Rowan couldn’t hear it. He didn’t hesitate to throw himself back down, to cover Erik’s body completely with his own, and think that, perhaps, it would have been a good idea to bring his shield.


	21. Chapter 20: Shrike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm glad you all enjoyed the last one, that kiss took some getting to, didn't it? So here's some angst.  
> ((but I promise this is the last really angsty one. You know I had to fit in one last hurrah.))

* * *

 

_Chapter 20: Shrike_

 

_I couldn’t utter my love when it counted_

_Oh, but I’m singing like a bird about it now_

_And I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted_

_Oh, but I’m singing like a bird about it now_

_Words hung above but never would form_

_Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn_

_Remember me love, when I’m reborn_

_As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn_

* * *

 

_After_

 

He nearly tripped on his way down the stairs in his haste to get away: from the wounded looks that spanned across the faces of his friends, to find air he could breathe that wasn’t the musty and stagnant vacuum of the Tower, and to escape the glowing light of expectation that would surely herald the end of everything he knew, as it was then.

Rowan could have tumbled all the way down and he wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. Truth be told, it might very well have hurt less than what waited behind him.

When his boots met grass he finally fell in earnest. His knees hit the earth the moment before his hands did. He twisted his fingers into the dirt and let his head hang. His breaths came too fast and too shallow; he couldn’t fill his lungs with enough air to scream.

_Alas, to lose time is to lose much. Only one of you may return to that place._

_Only one,_ Rowan thought. The tenuous thread of his control was fraying.

He curled his hand into a fist, the one that bore the mark that felt more and more often like a curse, and slammed it into the ground with a thud. It certainly didn’t make him feel any better, but he did it again, and again, until his knuckles ached and split.

When a hand came down to rest on his shoulder and squeeze, Rowan whirled around, his chest heaving.

Erik dropped down to squat at Rowan’s side. He kept his head bowed, and Rowan couldn’t quite make out his expression. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to hit things?” Erik asked. He curled Rowan’s hand in his own and brought the wounded fist up to his mouth.

His lips passed over the Mark of Light, and Rowan’s throat burned. “And you told me I should try it,” he responded after a moment, his voice hoarse. He looked down to stare at the gouges he’d clawed into the earth until his vision blurred. He felt like little more than a wild thing, desperate to stake his claim on the ground he’d gained, to tether himself to the dirt beneath his feet.

“Did it help?” Erik asked quietly.

_You will return to the past, and there you will stay._

He likely already knew the answer, but Rowan shook his head anyway.

Erik shifted closer. He rubbed a hand over Rowan’s shoulders and down, finding his arm and tugging until Rowan relented, until he turned and pressed his face in the curve of Erik’s neck.

“You-” Erik started speaking, only to break off. His fingers tightened around Rowan’s hand caught between them. The other touched frantically - his elbow, his neck, before burying into his hair, as if trying to memorize the path it took so often. “You don’t have to go.”

He sounded so brutally calm, almost careless in a way he only managed when he was desperately trying to keep himself together. It was enough to splinter Rowan apart. One stubborn tear scalded his cheek as it slipped from the corner of his eye. It dripped down his chin to fall onto Erik’s skin, only for another to take its place.

“I do,” Rowan whispered, “I do have to. You _know_ I do, and I know it.”

Erik was silent and utterly still for a long time. It could have been an hour, or perhaps only a minute. “No,” he said finally, his voice shaking. _“No,_ you want to know what I _know?_ That one of these days, you should stop worrying about other people for once and think about what’s best for you.”  

Oh, what he wouldn’t give just to _stay._

_I love you._

Rowan’s chest hitched with a sob he couldn’t quite hold in. “Sometimes I wish I could,” he admitted. He drew back just enough to see the agony etched into Erik’s face, and somehow, it steadied him. That was their way, it seemed; when one began to fall, the other would rise to catch, to be the solid ground beneath faltering feet and weak knees.

For Erik, he could pull himself together and pretend to a strength he did not feel. He could fall to pieces later, when he was alone, when there would be no one to smooth his course.

And oh, he would. That much he knew, with all the certainty that the sun would rise; saying goodbye would shatter him. His fingers would break from trying to hold on when the time inevitably came to let go.

Rowan took Erik’s face between his hands. “I want to stay,” he murmured, brushing his lips over Erik’s cheeks, across his eyelids once they fell closed. “But I don’t think I could live with myself if I did. I’m not sure you could, either.”

Erik made a small, wounded noise before leaning in and kissing him. He tasted like salt and Rowan knew what it was to be cleaved in half, cracked down the center. It would be easier to be selfish. He’d get what he wanted, then - a life at Erik’s side, the one he’d only just started allowing himself to _really_ picture. It would be a dream come to fruition, but he’d already learned that guilt was a disease. It would spread until his insides rotted with it, too deep to cut free. He’d been fooling himself by believing his life could ever be his to choose.

Erik’s fingers played over the back of his neck, and something deep inside his chest ached.

_I love you, I love you._ Rowan wanted to sigh the words, to shout them from the top of the tower, but he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be more of a knife than a gift, were he to offer them now.

Not that Erik would remember, when he left.

“I thought we had more time,” Rowan spoke against his mouth. Erik’s shoulders shook under his hands. “I’m _sorry,_ I thought-” he broke off. Rowan didn’t know what he thought, but he figured it didn’t really matter, in the end.

Erik took a deep breath, then another. “This isn’t... _it,”_ he said. He sounded torn between desperation and anger, and Rowan understood it well. It wasn’t so far off from what he felt himself. “This isn’t the end. I mean, if-” he stopped. He met Rowan’s eyes, and something unbearably sad wiped away the traces of everything else. _“When_ you go, I’ll still be waiting on the other side.”

Rowan let his fingers tangle into Erik’s hair. “Do you think…” he hesitated, picking his words carefully. “Do you think it’ll be the same, though?”

Erik lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You’re you. I’ll be me,” he forced a smile, weak and tremulous as it was. “The stars will be the same. Just ask me to point them out to you, sometime.”

Rowan laughed, a watery sound that made his composure waver. “And it’ll be that simple?”

Erik pressed one quick, bruising kiss against his mouth. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. You and me, that’s easy.”

It was, Rowan thought. It was the one truth he could swear by, the one star he could navigate by when he was lost among things unfamiliar; he’d love him easily and always, with every bit of his heart, under any given sky.

And this next one wouldn’t be any different from the last, he knew.

* * *

* * *

 

Erik’s blood turned from fire to ice in his veins in a matter of seconds. He felt as though time itself had slowed down.

Rowan dropped onto him, his full weight knocking the breath from Erik’s lungs. “Get up, would you?” he pushed at Rowan’s shoulders, only to go still when he heard another whistle. Above him, Rowan startled violently at the sound, his breath releasing in a puff.

Impatience snapped through him. Step one, Erik knew, was to assess the threat. He could hardly do that with a boy on top of him, regardless of how pleasant the experience had been mere moments before.

Erik lifted his head, struggling to scan the cave over Rowan’s shoulder. “I see it, it’s just a Bodkin. You can quit acting like a damn human shield-”

“Can you get it, you think? Careful,” Rowan’s voice was strained. He shifted just enough for Erik to move. He clambered to his feet, pulling Rowan up by the elbows before yanking his knives free from his belt. After he found his footing, he took off running.

He didn’t wait for Rowan to follow. It didn’t take two to handle a simple archer.

With a fast strike and a spray of blood, the offending monster was dead within seconds.

“See? Easy,” Erik called out, swiping his daggers over his pant leg to clean them. “I don’t know what had you so spooked - Rowan?”

He glanced back to see Rowan hadn’t moved far. He stood by the wall, a hand outstretched to hold onto it. Rowan’s head was bowed low, his shoulders hunched forward. His other hand was splayed out over his abdomen.

Erik’s heart, still beating hard from the quick skirmish, skipped unpleasantly before pounding all the more furiously against his ribs. _“Rowan?”_ he repeated, his voice jumping up an octave.

“I’m, um-” Rowan’s forehead was creased in a way that made him look confused. He peeled his fingers away from his belly. He took a step forward and staggered, and when he reached out in Erik’s direction, his palm was shining, slicked a wet crimson.

Erik heard a clatter - his daggers, hitting the cavern floor as they slipped from numb fingers. He must have moved faster than he’d ever managed before, to cross the cave and catch Rowan before he hit the ground. He slid his arms around him. Rowan’s sudden deadweight forced Erik down on a knee before he managed to slow his descent. Rowan curled forward, his face pressing into Erik’s collarbone. With his head ducked low, Erik could see over Rowan’s shoulder to find the fletching of an arrow, protruding from his back.

He stared at it, almost... _puzzled,_ in the manner of one who finds something they hadn’t expected, a thing that doesn’t belong.

_Rowan’s been shot,_ he thought.

All at once, the icy calm he surrounded himself with in the face of battle shattered, leaving him with nothing but broken pieces and his heart clogging his throat. “No,” Erik stammered out loud, foolishly. “No, that’s not-”

Rowan’s fingers twisted in his tunic. Erik shook his head once in an effort to clear it and dug deep. He swallowed air more than he breathed it, but he could not panic, _could not._

First, they had to move. It was colder outside the cave, in the snow. That would slow down the bleeding, he thought. At least, maybe that’s what he’d been told once. He could barely find a thread to grasp through the dissonant, stormy feeling brewing inside.

Erik hauled him as carefully as he could towards the open air. By the time he stopped, Rowan’s breathing was ragged.

“Okay,” Erik started, “it’s okay. We can fix this. You can heal it.”

“Can’t,” Rowan panted. Between them, his hand flew back to his stomach.

“You _have to,”_ Erik gripped his shoulders. He pushed Rowan backward and lowered him to the ground to lie on his side, and felt it like a gut punch when Rowan let out a strangled gasp. With unusually clumsy fingers, Erik unbuckled Rowan’s weapons belt and tossed it aside. He pried Rowan’s bloody tunic away from his stomach; he had to tear it a little more to free it from the arrow’s head, which stuck out of Rowan’s abdomen in between his lowest rib and his hipbone. Every time Rowan’s chest rose and fell, blood spilled out from around the shaft. It was a grotesque sight, and Erik could barely stand to look.

He drew in a quick, shallow breath. “You have to fix it!”

Rowan grimaced. “Gotta push it out first,” he ground out through his teeth.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Erik protested. He was fairly certain on that one. When Rowan’s chest heaved, Erik slid his fingers through Rowan’s hair, brushing it away from his forehead in a manner meant to be soothing. The touch left a smear of blood behind over his skin, and Erik’s stomach turned over.

Rowan closed his eyes. “Can’t heal it with a stick in my gut, either.”

“Dammit. _Shit,_ okay-” he let his hand drop to Rowan’s cheek. He felt again the faintest hint of stubble over his jaw - he’d discovered it earlier, when they kissed. Rowan’s mouth was still swollen from his own, and _this_ \- this had to be a joke.

Or perhaps this was what it truly meant to fly too close to the sun.

Slowly, Rowan lifted a hand to cover his. His hand was freezing, and Erik couldn’t _think,_ couldn’t find any sense through the panic that hovered just over his shoulder, haunting like a shadow. “What do we do?”

“Cut the back,” Rowan whispered, remarkably calm, “and pull it straight through.”

_Sweet fucking Yggdrasil, but there is no way this is really happening._

“With what?”

Rowan’s eyebrows drew together, a perplexed frown finding its way through the twisted mask of pain. “Your knife?”

He’d have to leave him, Erik realized. Only a few steps away, but the thought horrified him almost as much as the blood pooling beneath Rowan on the ground, the red flecks dotting the nearby snow. “I-”

Amazingly, Rowan managed to give him a smile, if it could be called that. “I won’t bleed out yet,” he said.

_Yet._ Everything inside him revolted at the word. “Not funny.”

It came out sharper than he’d meant, and something like sorrow flickered across Rowan’s face. “Sorry,” he whispered, turning his face into Erik’s hand. He felt Rowan press a kiss to his wrist, and his throat burned and burned.

“I’ll be right back,” he swore, before dashing away to retrieve his daggers.

As he stumbled over himself to sprint back, Rowan’s eyes tracked him. Erik knelt down, placed a steadying hand on Rowan’s hip, and drew one of his knives level with the arrow shaft at his back. He paused.

His hand was shaking.

Rowan was biting down on his bottom lip so hard Erik could see it start to split. Rowan clenched his eyes shut, and Erik thought his heart might well and truly break apart, splintering away into shards. He’d take the pain for him in an instant, if he could. He’d happily bleed, so Rowan wouldn’t have to.

Instead, Rowan had taken an arrow to the back, just to protect him.

“Do it,” Rowan urged, his voice tremulous. His bloody fingers came up to curl around Erik’s wrist. “Please.”

Erik inhaled so deeply his chest ached with it. With one decisive motion, he sliced away the barbed back of the arrow fletching. Rowan’s grip on him tightened, his face pinched. After a second, he tugged Erik’s wrist forward, towards the arrow’s head.

_Pull it straight through,_ he’d said. Erik flinched back without meaning to. “Rowan-” he started, his voice choked, “I-”

Rowan’s eyes lifted to meet his and darted over his face, searching. After a second he pressed his lips into a grim line, gave a short nod, and before Erik could even consider what that expression meant, Rowan gripped the arrow head between his fingers and _yanked._

_“Don’t-”_ Erik shouted, horrified. The wet, suctioning sound the arrow made when it left his body was soon lost in Rowan’s agonized cry. His face blanched, turning so quickly from red to white to gray. Blood welled faster from the gaping hole in his abdomen, running from rivulets to a stream.

He was losing way too much.

Erik thought he might be sick.

“Had to,” Rowan said.

“Heal it,” Erik whispered, “heal it.” If Rowan’s voice came out in a whimper, then his own sounded like a prayer.

Tremors wracked Rowan’s frame. His eyelids fluttered, his lips pursed together. Erik watched emotions play out over his face as he dug down for his magic: resolve, consternation, anxiety.

And pain, a constant.

After a second, his hand fell away from the wound and dropped to the ground. His fingers went limp around the bloody shaft and uncurled.

“ ‘S not working,” Rowan sounded distressed, and Erik felt it twofold.

“What does that mean? Rowan?” Erik murmured, running his hands up Rowan’s arm before covering his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers. “You have to keep pressure on it, Rowan-”

He glanced up to Rowan’s face just in time to watch his head tip back against the stones, to see his eyes roll back in his head, in the same instant his body went slack.

Erik’s heart came to a sudden, violent stop. The ground listed beneath him, dizzying as it threw him from his axis.

“Hey, no, don’t-” He kept one hand clamped over the wound and lifted the other to Rowan’s cheek. His skin was so cold, even as sweat dampened his hair and slicked it to his forehead. Erik’s fingers were trembling. “You’ve gotta wake up, don’t do this to me, _please_ open your eyes-”

He patted Rowan’s cheek. When that didn’t elicit a reaction, Erik smacked him, panic making him a little rougher than he would have been otherwise.

Rowan’s eyebrows furrowed. His eyes slit open once more, and though he seemed dazed and unfocused, Erik could breathe again.

“Stay awake,” he begged, “you have to stay awake and heal it.”

“Can’t,” Rowan whispered. Barely any sound passed his lips. “It’s not gonna - I -you-” he let out a labored breath. “ -’ll be okay.”

Erik wasn't certain _what_ would be okay, but he wholeheartedly disagreed with all the options the statement presented.

He gripped Rowan’s jaw between his fingers until their eyes met. “No,” he growled, “don’t you - no. _No,_ don’t leave me-”

Rowan stared back at him. His chin quivered, and his mouth shaped the words, _“_ I love you.”

Terror hollowed him out. Suddenly, he thought of the letter in his pocket, words he’d read over and over in the days since Rowan had placed them in his hands.

_I just know that I would not truly live another moment past your last breath, so that with every breath I take, you must take one somewhere, too._

He knew then, indisputably, that this was not a loss he could withstand. Should Rowan die on that mountain, Erik might survive it, but he would not _live,_ not a single minute past.

Erik’s face felt wet and cold. Absently, he realized there were tears on his cheeks.

“No! Rowan, listen to me. If you -” he gasped, “if you die, it will not be okay. _I will not be fucking okay,_ I swear to Yggdrasil, if you give up, I will not forgive you for it.”

Ever so slightly, Rowan’s pale mouth turned down into a frown.

Erik’s voice was cracking, but he kept going, all but shouting at him. “You’re the damn Luminary, there is _nothing_ you can’t do. I’ve seen it, I know you can, so do it! Please, I love you,” he stammered. He tangled his blood-slicked fingers with Rowan’s sticky ones and pressed their joined hands firmly over Rowan’s wound. He ignored the resulting hiss of pain with only a little guilt. “I _love_ you, you hear me? So use your damn magic and fix it!”

Rowan’s breath shuddered. Erik could practically see the moment his resignation faded and steely determination took its place, a sharpness returning to his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice coming out in a croak. “Okay, I-” he swallowed, dry and weak. “I need-”

Erik circled Rowan’s other wrist with his fingers. “Whatever you need, you take it.”

Rowan pressed his palm to the spot over Erik’s heart, and he felt the touch all the way down to his bones. “Hold onto me?”

“Always,” Erik swore.

The corner of Rowan’s lips quirked upward, infinitesimally. His eyes closed. Before Erik could return to hysterics, Rowan’s mark began to glow over his heartbeat, a faint flicker growing to a steady light.

Rowan’s head fell back. His mouth opened with a silent cry before he grit his teeth together. Within seconds, he went limp once more.

Erik caught the back of his head before it could hit the ground. “Rowan?”

He opened his eyes at the sound of his name. Erik found himself holding his breath while Rowan glanced down at their twined hands and peeled their fingers away from his abdomen.

There was still an ugly, jagged wound across the right side of his belly, but despite the scarlet smears across his pale skin, no fresh blood poured.

Rowan was already regaining some color in his cheeks. When he smiled, weary but genuine, Erik’s vision blurred.

“It’ll take a little more to heal it completely,” Rowan started, his voice hoarse, “but I think you might be stuck with me for a bit longer.”

Erik doubled over at the waist, pressed his face into Rowan’s sweaty neck, and shook as he fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you for reading. You can shout at me @anytaintedcreature at tumblr. I made a moodboard for this chapter and posted it there, if you're into that jazz.


	22. Chapter 21: Raise the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beloved friends, I can't believe we're almost done with this trainwreck, it makes me so sad. I so enjoyed you guys yelling at me after the last one, though, so it helps.

* * *

 

_Chapter 21: Raise the Dead_

 

_Breathe me back inside,_

_I’ve been in the water too long_

_I soaked in all the cries until I was gone_

_Lift me up and I feel lighter_

_I’m living in a dream_

_Wake me up if everything changes,_

_And nothing’s what it seems_

* * *

 

Brilliant color streaked the sky and shot the clouds through with oranges and deep blues. The sun would sink beyond the mountain and out of his sight, soon enough. It made him uneasy, for a reason he couldn’t quite put a name to.

Rowan blinked and shook his head before glancing around the summit. His eyes caught on every shadow in what to some could be considered an overly paranoid manner. Having just pulled an arrow from his own stomach, he wasn’t planning on taking chances.

His entire body ached. A stone dug into his spine, but he made no effort to adjust. His gaze fell on the mouth of the cave before he hastily tore his eyes away.

It was alarming, Rowan thought, to see so much of his own blood on the ground, splattered across the gleaming snow. To see it stained over clothes and skin - his and Erik’s both - and know how very close he came to losing his life.

 _To a Bodkin,_ he realized, with no small amount of disgust. Maybe he could convince Erik to come up with a better story, for when they made it home.

They’d moved only a few feet away, close enough to the Sacred Statue to fall under the protection of the Goddess while they rested, and near enough to draw warmth from the fire to combat the chill. Erik had yet to pull his face away from the hollow of Rowan’s throat. His hands were still wrapped up in his dried-stiff clothes. Erik’s elbow was perilously close to digging into Rowan’s ribs, making the hole in his gut throb furiously from his weight, but Rowan was fairly certain Erik was asleep and he’d rather face another brush with death than ask him to move.

With a featherlight touch, Rowan stroked a hand down Erik’s spine. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, the first words spoken in hours.

Erik took a deep breath, and Rowan startled. “Why-” he began, his voice muffled against Rowan’s neck before he drew back enough to see him, “-are you apologizing?”

His eyes were rimmed red, and it made Rowan’s heart tug anxiously; the evidence that he’d _hurt_ him, that he’d almost broken his oath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, dropping his chin to his chest. “For bleeding all over you? That whole ordeal just seems like the sort of thing I should say sorry for.”

He’d angled for a laugh and got one for his efforts, to a point - Erik let out an exasperated huff, and a tired, semi-reluctant smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair, and Rowan’s eyes fell onto the face of the watch around Erik’s wrist.

His hand shot out, fingers curling around Erik’s arm. “Wait.”

“I’m pretty sure you can tell what time it is just by looking up-”

Rowan watched the hands tick the seconds away, and the prickle of discontent grew to a swarm in his stomach. “Oh. _Oh,_ shit.”

“Rowan?”

_Your time is running out, Luminary._

“That’s it,” Rowan whispered. “That’s what they’ve been trying to tell me.” He looked up and found Erik staring at him, brows drawn low in clear concern.

_Time’s almost up, Rowan._

“What are you talking about?” Erik asked, freeing his wrist from Rowan’s hold only to thread their fingers together.

Rowan shook his head, his breaths quickening. “It’s been a year, almost exactly to the day I went back in time,” he pointed at the sky with his free hand. “I’ve got to go tonight, or - or, I don’t know-”

_He won’t wait much longer._

“Hey, slow down,” Erik’s other hand came to rest against Rowan’s cheek and he stilled, finally meeting his gaze. “Where are we going?”

Rowan lifted a hand to cover his. “The Void,” he closed his eyes briefly and tried to get a handle on his racing thoughts. “For the past few days I’ve been having dreams again, weird ones. They kept telling me I was running out of time, and I didn’t get it - I guess I thought maybe they were warning me I’d die,” he said sheepishly, and Erik’s mouth turned down in a severe frown. “So when that arrow hit me and I couldn’t heal it on my own, well,” Rowan shook his head. “But now...now I think _this_ is it. If I don’t get into the Void, if I don’t find a way to talk to the Seer now, _tonight,_ we’ll lose the chance.”

Erik looked stricken. “But...are you sure? What about that-” he dropped his gaze to Rowan’s stomach, where the tattered ends of his tunic barely covered the angry puncture wound in his abdomen. “Have you tried healing it again?”

Rowan sank his teeth into his bottom lip only to feel a sting from contact with the split skin. “I...have not, no.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed, and Rowan squeezed his fingers. “I’ve got to save what’s left of my magic, and it’s closed enough for now, right? Until we get down to Angri-La, or better yet, to Serena-”

“Rowan,” Erik ground his name out through his teeth, anxiety lining his expression. “I don’t know that this is a good idea.”

Rowan planted a hand on the ground and pushed upwards, trying to rise. The tiniest whimper slipped through his lips as the skin around his wound stretched. Erik scrambled to his feet, his hands coming up under Rowan’s elbows to steady him as they got up from the ground. “You can’t even stand! We should leave.”

He looked dejected, though, even as he said it. Rowan saw the way Erik’s eyes flickered towards the shrine. They’d come so close, only for Erik to have to walk away from something he wanted.

Something they _both_ wanted.

Rowan had meant it when he said Erik’s missing memories didn’t matter to him, not in the all-or-nothing manner Erik had believed. But he knew _Erik,_ and he knew being stuck a step behind would bother him, that the time lost between them would only be a weight to drag him down.

They’d been drowning long enough.

Rowan took a shuffling step forward. “No, I can do it. Just, uh, I’ll need that staff, and if you’ll help me to the altar, that’d be-” he broke off, sucking in a breath. “That’d be great.”

Erik’s arm banded around his ribs to keep him upright as they moved carefully across snow-slicked stones. “This is a _bad idea,”_ he reiterated.

“Maybe,” Rowan agreed, “but surely not the worst I’ve ever had, right?”

Erik scowled. “Don’t try to be charming right now.”

“Please, let me do this,” he paused in his efforts, and Erik halted next to him. Rowan leaned in closer and pressed his forehead to his, and Erik’s eyes fluttered shut. “For you, for both of us, maybe even for more than just us - I feel like it’s important. I think I’m _supposed_ to go.”

Erik made a frustrated noise. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to Rowan’s mouth before pulling back. He was glaring, and Rowan’s head was spinning from the urge to tug him back in close. “One of these days,” Erik grumbled, “you should really stop worrying so much about other people, and just do what’s best for you. We’re going to start practicing that.”

Rowan fought the smile that pulled at his mouth. “You know, you said something like that to me once before.”

“Obviously I knew what I was talking about then, too.” Erik sighed, his eyes tracking over Rowan’s face before he said, “promise me. Can you swear you’ll be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Rowan said slowly, “I don’t want to lie to you, okay? But if I thought there was a real chance something would happen, I wouldn’t, honestly. I wouldn’t go,” he murmured, “if I thought it would hurt you somehow.”

Erik breathed in and out through his nose. The muscle in his jaw ticked. After a moment, he helped Rowan settle down at the base of the altar. Erik crouched down in front of him, shoved his sleeve up and unhooked the timepiece from around his wrist, before strapping it onto Rowan’s. “You have one hour,” he said, his voice deadly serious. “One hour, and if you don’t come back, I swear to Yggdrasil I will find a way to drag you out of there myself.”

Rowan offered him a soft smile. He reached out, found Erik’s hand and gripped it tight. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much. You hold onto me, and I’ll come back to you. That I _can_ promise.”

Erik held his gaze, something open and vulnerable edging out the hardness in his expression. “Yeah?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Rowan swore. He tangled his fingers in the strings of Erik’s tunic and pulled him in closer until he could press his lips to Erik’s, slow and soft, a mere whisper. When he made a move to draw back, Erik gripped his jaw and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss, one that left Rowan breathless after.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Erik whispered, lingering against his lips for a moment, then another, before backing up with a heavy exhale. He sat down at Rowan’s side, squeezed his fingers between his own, and cast his gaze out toward the darkening sky. “Go on, Luminary. Do what you gotta do.”

With Erik’s hand clasped tight in his, Rowan let his eyes fall closed, and traveled into the dark.

* * *

* * *

 

The Void was as shadowy and shifting as Rowan remembered, indistinct. He didn’t stand in an echo of the Field of Discipline, as he had before. Through the celestial haze, Rowan could see that instead he stood on an uneven platform of mismatching rocks. Behind him was the altar, he knew - the way home. Before him lay a path, winding ever upwards and stretching far beyond what his eye could see.

Rowan took a few tentative steps forward, testing the ground beneath his feet. He looked down at the timepiece on his wrist and frowned.

The hands weren’t moving at all, frozen in the exact position he could imagine they’d been in the moment he shut his eyes.

A setback, Rowan thought, but not one he couldn’t handle. He could remember to return in an hour. Erik would be waiting.

Rowan pushed on through the gloom, his steps slow and cautious despite the urgency he felt in the rapid tattoo of his heartbeat. He counted the minutes off in his head and reached three before he found himself on another platform, at the base of an endless staircase.

The Seer stood before it, her back to him.

“Ah, you’ve made it to this place at last,” she spoke, her head canting slightly to one side. She did not turn around to face him, even as he took a few steps in her direction. She lifted one hand as if to touch an invisible barrier, only to draw it back. “But it is bold of you, Luminary, to traverse this Void, this precipice of death, when you stand so close to the edge of it yourself.”

 _Bold, or stupid?_ Rowan brushed a hand over his abdomen, the motion almost an unconscious one. It hadn’t pained him once since he’d passed through. “I’m fine enough for now. You were waiting for me then - I thought so. But you can turn around, I know who you really are.”

The Seer’s head bowed low. “A clever child.” The voice changed - from feminine and imperious to the tones of an older, gruffer man. The Seer’s shape shifted, and when he finally turned, Rowan recognized his face from the only other place he’d seen it; the painting from the Age of Heroes stuck inside Veronica’s book, where he’d been portrayed beside the Luminary of old.

“Morcant,” Rowan said slowly, testing the name on his tongue.

“You do know me, then,” the old man sighed. “But how much and how well, I wonder?”

“I know you’re both,” Rowan admitted. “The Seer _and_ Mordegon, somehow.”

“They are only pieces of the man I once was, but I suppose that is true enough,” Morcant told him. “You need not fear me for it. But come, Luminary. We have little time left to us and much to discuss, as I imagine you’ve sought me out for a reason beyond simple curiosity.”

“We _are_ running out of time, then,” Rowan said. “I was right.”

“And so pleased by it, too,” Morcant chided, but he offered the slightest hint of a weary smile. “We are approaching the end, a year to the precise moment Time’s Sphere was shattered. We’re about to come full circle, if you will, and thus time will continue to flow on, uninterrupted and ceaseless.” He glanced at Rowan, raising an eyebrow. “Should you find proper healing for that wound of yours, I imagine you shall be just fine. Do you not command magic?”

“I do,” Rowan ducked his head, sheepish. “I’m not very good at healing, though. Too sloppy.”

The look Morcant gave him then could only be described as disparaging. He shook his head. “You will survive, Luminary. I, however, will be lost as the year turns.”

“Why?”

“I have wandered this world for centuries, in between. With Mordegon’s death, my tether to the waking world was cut. But something holds me here still. I cannot return to Yggdrasil. I had hoped...but alas, it does not matter now.” He said it without frustration, without anger - only a stoic resignation.  

Rowan frowned. “But why?” he repeated, “why are you stuck here?”

“I’ve done very little good for this world, I’m afraid. We’re put on our paths with a purpose, and I deviated from mine to a catastrophic result. I had thought that in setting you on a new path, perhaps I could right a wrong done long ago, but perhaps I was foolish to hope - not all crimes can be forgiven.”

“Maybe,” Rowan said, watching him steadily, “but intention has to count for something. The last time we spoke, you said you sent Erik to me for a reason. You said the route we were on was better than others because you _wanted_ me to go back in time and defeat Mordegon before he took Yggdrasil, didn’t you?”

Morcant lifted his eyes to meet Rowan’s gaze, but said nothing.

“You saw what the world would become if Mordegon wasn’t stopped in time, and you found a way to spark change. That’s not nothing,” Rowan insisted.

“Tell me, Luminary. Have you wondered why it is that you and I remember another world, another time? Why your Erik remembered only in the dreams you shared between the two of you?”

Rowan blinked, but let the subject change pass. “Just about every day.”

“The answer is remarkably simple, I think. Do you remember what the Timekeeper said you would take with you, when you journeyed back to what had already passed?”

“She said I’d keep my memories and my knowledge of battle,” Rowan frowned, “but I don’t see-”

“And what else?” Morcant pressed.

“My stuff, except the Sword of Light-” a pang. He’d always missed the sword they had all forged together. “She said that all I held would come with me,” Rowan’s brows knitted together.

“Your possessions, then.” Morcant nodded. “And tell me, where was Erik, after you shattered Time’s Sphere?”

A beat, then another. Rowan noticed how loud his breathing sounded; a harsh, uneven rhythm cutting through the eerie silence of the Void. “He was holding my hand,” Rowan whispered, “he was right there with me, holding my hand.”

Morcant almost smiled. “And is a heart freely given not something you held dear?”

Rowan stared at him. A tightness strained in his chest. “I-”

“Erik’s memories of a forgotten timeline exist in this world because you brought them with you. He could not follow you physically through time, no- but I imagine he came with you still, in the only way he could. It’s a curious thing, really,” he mused, “that time is meant to be gone. It should have ceased to exist the moment you changed the course of events at Yggdrasil’s Heart. While one person’s memory could be false, could two? More than that, even? I wonder who else’s memories lie dormant, merely because you carried another world with you into the new?” Morcant lifted a hand once more towards the stairs. “It would seem that something shared between two people cannot be so easily erased, even by time itself. You kept the memories intact, which allowed us the knowledge we needed to bring about change.”

“But you-” Rowan stammered, his mouth dry. “You-you couldn’t have _known._ That he’d hold onto me as I left.”

“No,” Morcant agreed, his mouth curving into a small smile. “No, but I hoped. And sometimes that can make all the difference.”

Rowan could only gape at him.

“This is a great deal to take in, I imagine.” Morcant sighed and folded his hands, an old grief lining his face. “It was I who killed him, you know. Your predecessor, Erdwin. It was never something I wanted - he was a dear friend to me, once. But darkness runs deep, Rowan. It seeks that which is worst in us and twists it until the very soul is black, until naught but the brightest of lights can hope to reach it. I’d snuffed mine out by that time though, and then there certainly was no hope - until you.”

Morcant lifted a hand and dropped it onto Rowan’s shoulder, paying no mind when he startled. “I must thank you for all that you’ve done. You scrubbed the stain clean that my darkest shadow left on the heart of the World, and that is no small thing. If there is something I can do for you before you return across the altar, do not fear asking.”

It took Rowan several moments to find his voice. “Erik,” he said softly, “I want him to have his memories. He knows about it all now, but he should have them.”

Morcant nodded slowly. “That is much to put on a person. Are you certain it would be a kindness, after so long?”

“Maybe not entirely,” Rowan admitted, “but he knows they’re not all good. It was his idea to try to get them back, he...he wants to _know.”_

“To accept that memories of hardship come with those of happiness is courageous indeed,” Morcant conceded, “but is this not, in some manner, a selfish request?”

Rowan chewed on his lip, trying to stem his frustration. “Of course I want him to remember. But he wants them too.”

“Tell me, what would you trade for this wish to be granted? Where would your sacrifice stop? Would you give up the world?”

“What?” Rowan sputtered. “No-”

Morcant leaned in closer still, his next words cutting through Rowan’s protestations. “Would you give up being the Luminary?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more main story chapter to go before the epilogue. Thank you thank you thank you to everyone of you for reading, hitting that kudos button, and leaving me comments. Those AO3 emails are better than chocolate, I swear.


	23. 22: Once Upon A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I am emotional. This is it, the last chapter before the epilogue, I may or may not be crying about it, but I'll save the super sappy long note for next time. Thank you always <3

* * *

 

_ Chapter 22: Once Upon A Dream  _

 

_ I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream _

_ I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam _

_ And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom what they seem _

_ But if I know you, I know what you’ll do _

_ You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream _

* * *

 

_ After _

 

Sunlight streamed in through the open window and glinted off the sword and knives that rested on the corner table. Erik squinted against the shine as he glanced inside, before closing the door behind him as silently as he could manage while he slipped back into the rented room on bare feet.

Rowan slept on, nestled into the bed with the blanket tossed to his hips and an arm thrown up over his eyes. Unabashed, Erik let his gaze track over Rowan’s exposed skin, lingering over the hard plane of his stomach. He dropped a knee onto the bed, fully intent on waking Rowan up by letting his mouth follow the same trail his eyes did, only to pause when he heard the smallest whine. 

Erik frowned. He looked up to see Rowan’s chin quiver right before he threw his arm to the side, thrashing against his pillow.

“Hey, hey,” Erik reached for him. He dodged a fist and took Rowan’s face in his hands, keeping his voice calm and level. “Wake up,” he murmured.

Rowan’s eyes shot open, dark and wild. He gasped, his chest heaving, and when his searching gaze darted over Erik’s face, the frantic expression on Rowan’s startled him.

He looked  _ terrified. _

It made Erik’s stomach hurt. “Hey,” he said again, more urgently. “It was just a dream, okay? You’re alright,” he soothed, running his hands in a pattern; over Rowan’s cheeks, his forehead, before threading into his hair to push it back out of his face. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Rowan’s breath stuttered. His arms came up and Erik found himself crushed against Rowan’s chest, his cheek flat over the rapid pound of his heart. Erik settled in against him and slid his arms around his back as best he could, and after a few moments, Rowan started to relax.

He rolled onto his side, taking Erik with him. They laid nose to nose, and Erik let his fingers tangle into Rowan’s hair, let them journey to the back of his neck and hold on in the way he knew he liked. “What was that?” Erik mumbled.

Rowan shifted forward until their foreheads could touch, briefly. His hands roamed over Erik’s back and clutched at his shoulders, the dregs of distress still evident in the firm press of his fingers. “Nightmare,” he whispered back, his voice hoarse. “Sorry.”

Erik frowned at him. “I know  _ that.” _ He scraped his nails over Rowan’s scalp and watched his eyelids flutter, some of the worry lines in his forehead smoothing out. “What was it about?”

Rowan’s eyes met his, only to dart away again. “Don’t remember much,” he hedged. Erik let the white lie pass unchallenged. He’d seen enough to understand that some things were better left in the dark once the sun rose. “Just that you were, um, gone.” 

Rowan burrowed into him then, tucking his nose into Erik’s collarbone, and Erik doubted he’d ever get used to  _ this  _ \- the idea that Rowan seemed to need him just as fiercely as he wanted him, that his nightmares consisted not of the monsters and horrors he’d faced but the simple fear of loss - that losing  _ him  _ was enough to put such a desperate fear in Rowan’s eyes. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever mattered to anyone that much before.

Erik’s chest swelled even as it ached. He wondered how one managed to give name to a feeling they’d never really known. The day had already long come and gone when Erik had realized he was tied to Rowan, irrefutably. He knew well that his own heart no longer belonged to him but walked and talked, existing outside the safety of his ribs. He wondered, then, if that was what everyone called  _ love. _

“I-” he stopped, his hands stilling in Rowan’s hair. He held his breath, then let it out. “I’m not gone,” he said lamely instead, his voice going soft.

Rowan let out a huffy chuckle against his neck. His fingers curled around Erik’s ribs. “And thank Yggdrasil for that.” 

Rowan sounded calmer, but Erik’s heart was pounding. He’d come so very close to telling him, only for the words to get stuck. His mouth didn’t quite know how to spill the simplest of truths.

He could tell him in other ways. Love had to be worth more than the sounds the words themselves made, Erik thought. It had to take up more space than the breaths between letters, and surely carried more weight than a secret kept hidden.

“So,” Erik started, his voice a low rumble beside Rowan’s ear. “I was thinking about a cabin near Dundrasil, you know, by those cliffs?”

Rowan hummed against his collarbone. Erik could feel the curve of his smile. “Where you can see the water from just about every window.”

He kicked the blankets away and twined their legs together. Rowan’s skin was warm from sleep and sun under his hands, and it was a feeling he knew he’d never tire of. “Got me. We’ll be close enough, if Rab ever decides to do anything with the ruins. Not too far from here, so we can make it to the docks fast if we want to.”

“Not so far from Heliodor,” Rowan added, “should her Highness ever decide to pay us a visit.”

“And Mia can have a room on the opposite end of the house from ours. Or even better, we can build her a barn.”

Rowan laughed. He drew back just enough for Erik to see his face as his eyebrows did a lurid dance. “Oh yeah?”

“That’s important, I think,” Erik told him, as Rowan’s fingers started trailing down his chest.

“Very much so.”

Erik swallowed. He remembered he was supposed to tell Rowan... _ something. _ Important, maybe, as he’d been dragged out of the room early that morning for it. He decided to spit it out, before he could be too distracted by a wandering hand. “Uh, we’re supposed to go meet them in the woods outside Octogonia. Hendrik heard about some weird -  _ ah _ \- crash site or ruins out that way.” He closed his eyes, his breath rushing out. “But they can wait.” 

Rowan grinned, all teeth. “Yeah, they can wait,” he agreed, his voice rough, before he leaned in and kissed him.

He could show him, Erik thought, in every meeting of lips and with every stroke of a hand over skin. Love wasn’t so hard to name when Rowan looked at him like  _ that, _ when they had a hundred days, a thousand, spanning out before them to share.

Erik tugged him closer and knew, with every answered beat of his heart.

_ I love you.  _

* * *

* * *

 

Rowan felt the world might have fallen out beneath his feet, lost to the Void that stretched infinitely below. He took a half stumbling step backward. “What?”

“Your Luminary powers,” Morcant said again, his face inscrutable. “Would you surrender being the Luminary to chase this idyllic life you’ve imagined? I know there have been many times when you’ve loathed that mark on your hand. It’s not so unusual - many would share that reaction, when great responsibility is thrust upon one so young.” 

Rowan’s chest heaved. “I - weren’t you the one who told me I couldn’t lose them? That power can’t be taken, touched, all of that?” 

“It can always be given. Think carefully, Rowan.”

His throat burned. Unbidden tears blurred his vision. With an impatient swipe of his hand, he dashed them away before they could fall.

_ So close,  _ Rowan thought. The bitterness welling inside no longer surprised him when it leaked into his veins and spread like poison.  _ We were so close. _

“I can’t do that,” Rowan said through his teeth. “No.”

Morcant raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’re right,” Rowan said, his voice shaking. “I  _ do  _ hate being the Luminary, sometimes. I’ve known for awhile now that my life will never fully be mine, and it makes me furious.” One by one, Rowan’s fingers curled up, his hands fisting at his sides. “Because of moments  _ just like this. _ Where I can’t - I can’t give him everything because I’ve always got to have something left when the world inevitably comes to take it from me. It’ll be what kills me one day, I’m sure. I thought it would kill me today.” Rowan raked an unsteady hand through his hair. “I thought it might be okay, if it did, because at least I left the world better. At least...at least I’d have left it to him  _ better.”  _

He looked up, his gaze accusing. Morcant said nothing and continued to watch him silently. He even gave a little nod, as if to say,  _ ‘go on’. _

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “But it might not always be that way, right? So no. I could give _this-”_ he thrust his marked hand out into the space between them, “-I could give this up and  hope nothing horrible would happen, but that wouldn’t get me very far when the next Dark One rises out of a hole in the sky, would it? It’s my responsibility and it might be easier to give it up, but it wouldn’t be _right._ But Erik having his memories? That’s my responsibility too, because I’m the one who changed everything, but that can’t be _wrong._ It would be fair. We don’t need them,” he said, vehement, unsure who he was trying to convince. “We  don’t, but it would be easier.” 

Still, Morcant stayed quiet. Rowan felt the fight drain out of him. His shoulders slumped as his anger died away, a candle’s flame in the wind. “And I guess I’d hoped that, maybe just this once, we could have this one thing be easy. But if that’s the deal,” he sighed, “then no. I can’t...I can’t sacrifice our future,  _ everyone’s  _ future, for the past.” 

Feeling thoroughly spent, Rowan whirled around and took three determined steps back the way he’d come. His hands started shaking.

For a moment, he almost didn’t want to go. Rowan couldn’t stand the fact that he’d have to tell Erik he’d failed in this one, simple thing. He didn’t want to see the way his face would fall when he told him he couldn’t.

_ I’ll tell him,  _ Rowan thought, desperate to chase his disappointment with determination instead. _ I’ll tell him every single thing he’s missing, until the memories might as well belong to him again.  _

Maybe that could be enough. Maybe, Erik could still find a way to be happy with him without them. 

“Rowan,” Morcant said, his voice calm and even when he finally spoke.

Rowan paused. He waited a moment until his breaths came easier before turning back around. 

“You’re a good man,” Morcant told him. “Every bit as good and light as the Luminary who came before you.” 

“I-I don’t understand,” Rowan stammered.

Morcant smiled, very slightly. “You’ve sacrificed a great deal in your young life, all for the betterment and protection of others. And even here, presented with the thing you want most of all - the chance to reclaim the best parts of the life you had to leave behind - you still refuse to falter.” He waved a hand, gesturing for Rowan to return to him. “Come.”

Rowan took a hesitant step, eyes narrowed slightly, before relenting and closing the space between them. 

“Your request is not one so impossible to grant. It’s a fairly small thing to ask for, in all the grandness of the world,” Morcant said, his voice warming. Slowly, he raised a gnarled hand to Rowan’s face and thumped two fingers between his eyes.

“Ow,” Rowan complained, pressing the pads of his fingers to the spot. “What-”

“You’ve become a Seer in your own right, I believe. Erik’s memories are in your possession, as they have been since this particular timeline began anew. Only you can give them back. Your willing it and a connection should do just fine, right there.” 

Rowan’s heart was thudding against his ribs, hard and insistent. “You’re serious? That’s...he can have them back?” he whispered.

“He can. You had best hurry back, however. I imagine he’s waiting for you.”

Rowan’s eyes darted back down to the watch on his wrist, still and silent. “Yeah, yeah - I have to go. Do I...do I have to flick him?”

Morcant blinked, then laughed. “A simple touch will do.”

Rowan backed towards the altar, his mouth stretching into an incredulous smile. “You know, you had a bigger hand in saving the world than you might think. If you did send Erik to me, that’s...that’s not nothing. I would have given up or failed so many times without him. He kept me going.” He tilted his head towards the staircase beyond, leading up towards the light. “I would try returning to Yggdrasil again, if I were you. I like to think our Goddess is one who believes in forgiveness, if we only try to find it.”

Without waiting for a response, Rowan turned and ran, fast and free, his feet soundless over the path he’d taken to get there. He reached the altar and glanced back over his shoulder. He watched as Morcant hesitated for only a second more before taking a step. His foot passed through the veil that shrouded the way before without resistance. He landed on the first stair and looked up, the awe on his face clear even from a distance.

_ An easy thing, _ Rowan thought. All shadows faded with enough light.

When he closed his eyes and reached out, eager to go back to the one who waited for him, he could feel fingers wrapped around his own, pulling him back to where he belonged. 

 

“Rowan.”

He heard his name called, though at a distance; an echoing shout through a field, muffled by the time it reached his ears. He pushed his way through the gloom and sought his way back to the light.

“Rowan!”

When he opened his eyes, for a moment all he could see was  _ blue. _

He blinked several times to clear the haze from his mind. It wasn’t so unlike being under water and swimming for the surface, Rowan thought. It took a moment to find a way to keep his head above water, to breathe air back into his lungs.

His abdomen hurt. His hand was being squeezed so tightly he thought his bones might be in danger of crushing under the pressure.

Erik’s face came into focus. There was a tense knot between his brows, and Rowan wanted to reach out and smooth it away. “How long was I gone?” he asked, his voice sounding odd to even his own ears.

“Fifty-nine minutes, you bastard,” Erik complained, breathless even as relief, clear and bright, spread over his features.

Rowan smiled. “That’s awfully specific for someone who couldn’t look at the time.”

Erik let out a shaky laugh before his arms shot out, dragging Rowan up from the stones and into him. Erik’s nose smashed into Rowan’s collarbone and his grip knocked the breath from his chest, but Rowan didn’t care; he held him just as fiercely, just as tightly, with a manic sort of joy blooming beneath his ribs, one that spread with every heartbeat.

“Sorry I was almost late,” Rowan murmured, nuzzling against the spot below Erik’s ear. “The watch hands didn’t move in the Void. It didn’t feel like an hour, either.”

“Of course not,” Erik grumbled against his shoulder, even as the tension fell out of his body. After a moment he drew back slightly, looking nervous. “So? Did you...do what you needed to do?”

“I think I did,” Rowan told him. His hands ran a path of their own accord over Erik’s shoulders, his back, up his arms.

Erik gaze met his before darting away. “It didn’t work, though,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t -” he stopped, swallowed. “I don’t remember anything new.”

Rowan touched his hand to Erik’s chin and lifted it, gently coaxing him to look back up. “Hey,” he started, “are you absolutely sure it’s what you want?”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up. The spark of interest, of  _ hope, _ in his gaze was infectious. It made Rowan’s smile widen even as his heart skipped. “What, did you learn a new magic trick?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Rowan told him. “It’ll be a lot. It’s not all great, either - I mean, most of that year was awful. We had-”

Erik tugged on his hand, effectively ending his rambling. “Everything,” Erik interrupted. “I want everything, I want to remember all of it, just do it.”

“Okay,” Rowan shifted closer, his nerves making themselves apparent in the slickness of his palms. “Okay, close your eyes, or something,” he murmured.

Erik huffed a laugh but did as he asked, his eyes drifting shut. Rowan crossed the scant space between them. He swiped a hand over his tunic before tentatively laying it against Erik’s cheek. With a shaky breath, he leaned in and placed a kiss on his furrowed brow, right between his eyes.

Rowan saw it all, as Erik did.

_ Yggdrasil falling, gone in a torrent of fire and shadow, leaves scattered and burned. Days, maybe months lost, boundless questions unanswered. Begging on his knees in the hold of a ship, his name on strangers’ lips. A palace of gold surrounded by snow, accusing eyes and his faults laid out at his feet. A rain-soaked grove and a girl in a red dress, fading away, tearing open a hole as she went. A shining white whale soaring through the clouds and a forge rising from the heat of the earth. The Luminary with a glinting sword, challenging the skies themselves. A frantic kiss and hands clasped in the dark. An impossible battle, won. _

_ The pair of them together on a hundred different days with enough bliss between them to spill over, to burst free from the confines of that which would try to hold it in. But only a respite, and soon ended. _

_ A Tower, a glowing sphere, and a goodbye, carefully unsaid. _

_ A confession, finally remembered. _

Rowan heard a gasp - maybe it was his own, maybe not. Then Erik kissed him; a fierce, graceless thing, with all the sharp edges of need.

That he knew well. He could recognize it as a mirror image of his own. Rowan clung to him with shaking hands and could feel Erik’s own trembling under his touch in turn. He tasted salt on his lips and pulled Erik in tighter, wrapped him up in his arms until Erik’s face was buried in Rowan’s neck, until Rowan could hold him together while the flood tried to rend him apart. “It’s okay,” Rowan spoke against his ear, soft and sure. “I’ve got you.”

Erik’s fingers twisted in Rowan’s tunic. “Mia, she-”

“She’s fine,” Rowan swore.

“In Dundrasil,” Erik took two sharp breaths. “We left her in Dundrasil. B-But before, she was one of Mordegon’s-”

“Just a memory,” Rowan told him, “just a bad memory.”

“And Veronica-” he started, finding some thread to follow as his world spun around. “She-”

“Is probably in Dundrasil too, by now,” Rowan’s hand slid up and down Erik’s back, a rhythm he could count his heartbeats by. “Waiting to yell at us for having the audacity to be gone when she arrived.” 

Erik made a noise against the hollow of his throat. After a moment he drew back, just enough to look. The  _ knowing  _ look, the raw empathy in his eyes, everything he saw there made Rowan’s throat burn. “And you?” Erik asked, as soft as the snowfall around them.

“Me?” Rowan tried for a laugh and fell just short of the mark with a breathless, broken sound. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. “Forget that, what about you? I mean, you’re the one with two wildly different sets of  _ life  _ going on, all at-”

Rowan trailed off at a touch to his cheek, his words dying away. Erik’s expression changed from wildly overwhelmed to serious and certain. “I love you too,” Erik told him, and it knocked the breath from Rowan’s lungs.  _ “That’s  _ what I wanted to say.” 

Rowan lost his trembling fingers in Erik’s hair and pulled him in closer. His throat felt too tight to speak, but he figured they didn’t have such a great need for words, after that.

 

“So. Did we make out in the Hotto bath, or was that a dream?”

Rowan grinned. “No,  _ that  _ definitely happened.” 

They’d moved back to the fire. He’d thrown enough healing magic into his wound to dull the ache, and with the curtain cloak wrapped tight around them as he and Erik occupied each other’s space and whispered about a time passed, Rowan was warm enough to never want to leave. 

“What about the stage in Gondolia?”

Rowan blinked before smirking. “We didn’t go back to Gondolia, that one must have been a dream.” 

Erik sighed. “Damn. What about...the Costa Valor?”

“Yeah, that was the first-” Rowan broke off.

Erik raised an eyebrow. “The first what?” 

Rowan felt his face flush. “Nothing.”

He felt Erik’s foot connect with his shin and when he looked back up, he was smiling. “Spit it out.”

Rowan heaved a put-upon sigh. “If you must know, that was the first time I almost told you I loved you.”

Erik’s smile stretched. Instead of teasing, he said, “I almost told you I loved you the day we found the Haven’s Above wreckage.” His smile slipped, just a bit. “Talk about fucked up timing.”

Rowan wedged his foot under Erik’s ankle. “I almost told you a hundred different times,” he admitted.

“Then why did you want until the last possible minute?” Erik asked. He sounded exasperated, and Rowan ducked to hide his grin.

“I guess I thought it might not be kind, what with me  _ time traveling-” _

“So you decided to be unkind as you left?” Erik countered, but there was humor in his words. Cold fingers pressed into the gaps between his ribs, and Rowan squirmed and laughed. 

“No, I - no, I just wanted -” Erik lifted an eyebrow, and Rowan made a frustrated noise. “I guess I wanted you to know that you were loved, even as I left. I wanted that to be the last thing, before everything changed.” 

Erik’s eyes went soft in the way that made Rowan’s heart want to burst free and land at his feet. “We figured it out eventually,” he murmured, wiggling forward until their foreheads touched. “I told you.”

Rowan huffed, even as the blatant affection made his cheeks ache from smiling. “Yeah, but I don’t think it went the way you told me it would-” 

“Well maybe if you hadn’t acted like an  _ ass-”  _

Rowan shifted until he could bite the shell of Erik’s ear and took satisfaction from his gasp. “We never quite made it to that cabin on the cliffs.”

“We still could,” Erik said lightly. “I think the Prince of Dundrasil could pull some strings and get it done. If not,” he said, his lips curving, “I could see the water from your room in the castle.”

“You could,” Rowan said. He hesitated only a moment before asking, “you think Dundrasil could be your home?”

“With you, yeah,” Erik told him, without the slightest hint of self-consciousness. “With you, wherever we end up, I’m home.”

And that, Rowan thought, was more than enough. In fact, with Erik tangled against him, his heartbeat under Rowan’s hands and laughter on his lips, it might even be everything.


	24. Epilogue: Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. We made it to the end in mostly one piece (I hope) and I just don't know where to start. This story has a whole chunk of my heart with it and finishing it has not been easy, because I don't let go of things easily and this is a world I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to. I want to thank all of you so much for taking this ride with me - everyone who read, everyone who hit kudos, and especially everyone who commented. 
> 
> Thanks to erdreas, prettypriestess, Sumbril, iamsolarflare, dragonquesttbh, MollyYellow, & MurderBaby for being such beautiful regular commenters, you guys are amazing. <3
> 
> Thank you to floopurple, for logging back into an old AO3 account to leave me such long, heartfelt comments every week. You have no idea how often I went back and read them when I was stuck or feeling like I'd never finish this story. You are a gem and I appreciate you endlessly for it.
> 
> Finally, thank you to Flutiebear. I've said it before and I'll say it again: without you, this fic wouldn't have gotten this far. Thank you for all your wonderful support, your encouragement when I was freaking out, and your help when I needed another set of eyes. When I first decided to accept the fall into this rabbithole and post this story to AO3, I didn't expect to find a friend, but I'm very glad I did. <3
> 
> I love you guys. With all the sappy stuff out of the way, I hope you enjoy the epilogue to Once Upon A Dream.

* * *

 

_Epilogue: Stone_

 

_You’ve been waiting for a miracle all your life_

_‘Cause if the fires don’t burn it down_

_The rains will wash it away_

_If you’re looking for solid ground_

_A stone will never break_

_So give me all your pain_

_And love will set you free_

_Give me all your shame_

_Put all your weight on me_

_And I’ll be the stone that you need me to be_

* * *

 

The sun hung heavy in the sky, near to setting as they cleared the hill leading up from the woods into Dundrasil proper. The first thing to catch Rowan’s eye was not the towers touching the pinkening clouds or the newly built cabins dotting the roads, but a familiar blonde head and billowing green skirts. From his vantage point on Atlas’s back, he could see Serena wiggling her way through the crowded street, in some apparent haste to reach them.

Rowan glanced behind him, offering Erik a grin over his shoulder as he tugged on the reins, coming to a halt once they’d gone as far as they could on horseback.

“You were right,” Erik told him as he slid off the horse. Once his feet touched the ground he turned, reaching back up to hold onto Rowan’s hips as he dismounted behind him, slowing his descent to prevent jarring his wound. “They did make it here while we were gone.”

Rowan held onto Erik’s shoulder, his other hand falling down to press against the faint twinge in his side. “And we’re going to hear about it, I’m sure,” he said, his smile stretching. He passed off Atlas’s reins to a waiting hand before starting in Serena’s direction through the throng of villagers making their way home.

“We could go hide,” Erik suggested, his voice dropping low. “You’ve got guards to help with that sort of thing, right?”

Rowan swayed closer to him, his gaze drawn to the curve of Erik’s smirk. “You know, that’s not a bad-” he broke off as Serena finally made it before them. His smile faded in the face of dawning horror when he realized she was crying.

“Serena-” he started, only to lose his breath when she crashed into the pair of them, throwing an arm around each of their necks and holding on.

“What-” he heard Erik mumble, dumbfounded.

Rowan’s hand found the small of her back and rubbed, trying to soothe even as he shot Erik a panicked glance. Nerves skittered up his spine as he worried over what could have happened in their absence. “Serena, what’s wrong?”

“You did it,” she sobbed, turning her damp face against Rowan’s neck. Her voice was even more muffled than before when she added, “y-you saved her, you _brought her back!”_

Erik met his gaze over her head, his eyebrows arching high. He ducked, extricating himself from her grip before giving Serena’s shoulder a perfunctory pat.

Rowan’s chest felt tight as he held her out at arm’s length and lifted a hand to gently swipe away her tears. “What do you mean?” he asked urgently, “what’s going on?”

Serena took a deep breath. “We know. We _remember.”_

Rowan’s jaw popped open. His hands fell limp to his sides. Before he could even begin to formulate a response, Erik filled the silence for him. “It’s wild, isn’t it?”

She let out a soft, shaky laugh, more tears spilling free as she shook her head. “I’m being silly, I’m sorry. I just-” she reached up to wipe at her cheeks. “I just can’t believe it.”

Erik tugged on Rowan’s sleeve and tilted his head in the direction of the path. “Let’s keep moving,” he suggested, before taking a few backward steps towards the castle, staying turned to face them.

Rowan gave his head a vicious shake in an effort to clear the buzzing in his ears. He took Serena’s hand and gave it a squeeze before tucking it into his elbow and following Erik. “What do you mean, you remember?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “That shouldn’t - you-”

Serena walked with him, using her free hand to sweep her hair behind her ear. “We - that is, Jade, Sylvando, Sir Hendrik, Rab, and I - we remember everything. All that happened after Yggdrasil fell, after Veronica-” she broke off. “But after we defeated Mordegon, you...you went back to save her,” her voice lowered to a reverent whisper. “And you did it! Oh, Rowan, I knew if anyone could, it would be you.”

His mouth felt too dry to speak, even if he could find the words he wanted to say. He looked up and met Erik’s watchful gaze, his own expression pleading. Erik shrugged one shoulder, only offering a soft smile.

“I don’t understand-” Rowan stopped and swallowed. “Morcant. He said...he said he wondered who else’s memories might have - but I-” he stammered.

“He told you other memories might have been hanging around, right? So they came back when mine did?” Erik supplied, waving a hand to punctuate his words.

Rowan supposed it made enough sense, if any of the things he’d done in the past year could be considered sensical. But where he probably ought to have felt relieved, mostly he felt the all too familiar weight of guilt, pressing down on his ribs.

Rowan dropped his eyes to his boots. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Serena frowned at him. “Oh, but what ever for? You’ve nothing to apologize to me about.”

“We were only trying to get Erik’s memories back,” Rowan said. “I didn’t know - I would have asked if you _wanted_ them back, at least. I never meant for you to have to know...all of that. I thought it might be better if you didn’t have to.”

Serena laid her hand over his and tugged him to a stop, gifting him with a gentle smile. “It’s better to know, I think,” she told him. “We’ve gone through so much to get here, Rowan, all of us together. I think it’s important that we all know just what paths we’ve taken - we know what Veronica did for us, and we know what you did for us now, too.”

Rowan opened his mouth, only for nothing to come out.

Erik stepped closer to them and reached out, brushing Rowan’s hair out of his face with a knowing look on his own. “It’s a good thing,” he agreed, pressing his fingertips to the apple of Rowan’s cheek before backing up. “I should go find Mia, but Rowan’s got an arrow wound right about here, Serena,” Erik said, indicating to the approximate spot on Rowan’s stomach. “He’s stubborn enough to let it rot until it kills him, I guess, so if you wouldn’t mind checking it out?”

“Goodness,” Serena gasped.

The look Erik offered Rowan as he mounted the stairs was a bizarre mixture of scolding, smugness, and affection before he turned around. Rowan rubbed at the back of his neck, his gaze following Erik until he melted away into the crowd. “It’s really not as bad as he makes it sound, anymore,” he offered, even as Serena’s expression turned expectant.

“Allow me to see it, Rowan. If Erik’s worried, it must be just awful.”

He bit down on his lip but obeyed, tugging up the front of his tunic until the flat of his stomach and the half-healed hole in it were visible.

Serena pursed her lips into a frown as she leaned in closer to inspect it before lifting a hand to the puncture. “You probably should have had someone look at this before now. If you like, we can resume our healing lessons while we’re here,” she said, her voice soft as healing magic flowed from her fingertips and into his skin.

Rowan sighed aloud, any retort lost in the tide of relief as the vestiges of pain finally faded. The touch of magic was different with everyone who administered it, he’d noticed: Hendrik’s was much like his own, a rushed patch thrown over a scrape; Rab’s was calmer, steadier; but Serena’s was all-encompassing, akin to slipping into a long-awaited bath or falling asleep. A cool, blissful solace.

When he looked down, the jagged red skin was smoothed over. All that remained of the ordeal was a faded white mark the size of a coin, just another scar.

“Thank you,” Rowan told her, sincerity ringing clear.

Serena closed one of his hands in both of hers. “Thank _you,”_ she insisted as she handed the sentiment back, her eyes twinkling. “Just...thank you so much, for saving her. I’ll never be able to express that enough, Rowan. I know it can’t have been easy to be on your own here, to change everything alone.”

They continued on up towards the castle to see a few of the others gathered near the top of the steps. Mia was bouncing around her brother, hands gesturing wildly as she peppered him with what Rowan could imagine was an endless stream of questions. Erik dropped a hand onto the top of her head, ruffling her hair with a grin, before turning towards Veronica. Without warning, he lifted her up from the ground into a tight embrace.

Rowan smiled at the sight and threw an arm over Serena’s shoulders as they scaled the stairs. “It _wasn’t_ easy,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I would do it all over again if I needed to, in a heartbeat. And I wasn’t alone, even if I felt like it sometimes.”

Serena glanced up at him, her expression warm.

“What is wrong with you?” Veronica was saying as they drew nearer, looking utterly bewildered in Erik’s arms. “Did you hit your head?”

Erik only laughed, giving her one last squeeze before setting her back on her feet. Veronica shot him a suspicious look before placing a hand on her hip and thrusting an accusing finger in Rowan’s direction. “And just _where_ have you two been? Jade had very nearly ordered all of the guards to scour Erdrea before Mia waltzed in with some ridiculous story about the two of you sneaking off into the sunrise together with Rowan wearing a blanket as a disguise.”

Rowan pressed his lips together, desperately fighting a smile. Erik had twin spots of color high in his cheeks, despite a carefully neutral expression. “Well,” he began, “she wasn’t exactly wrong.”

“It’s, uh. A bit of a long story,” Rowan added, reaching over to tangle his fingers with Erik’s when Veronica looked away.

“You’d best get started, then-” Veronica informed him, only for Hendrik to force his way through the castle doors behind them.

He hastily straightened up to his full height under everyone’s scrutiny and blinked. “Rowa-er, Your Highness,” he corrected, “you’ve returned.”

Rowan’s lips twitched. “I have,” he agreed, “I suppose it’d be useless to beg you again to call me Rowan, right?”

“Quite so. A word, if I may?” Inexplicably, his face reddened as he glanced at the others, all looking on with interest. “Ah, should Princess Jade, erm, _require_ me, please inform her that the Prince and I are...checking the fortifications of the South wall.”

Veronica’s mouth curved into something too sly to be called a smile. _“Oh?_ What would Jade require you for, I wonder?”

Hendrik’s face flushed darker still as he cleared his throat.

Rowan bit down on his lower lip. He lifted Erik’s knuckles to his mouth and brushed a kiss over his hand, offering him a smile. “Be right back.”

Erik grinned and opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by Veronica’s shriek. “So that’s finally happening! Thank Yggdrasil, I thought you two were going to flop around each other for _ages-”_

“Would you shut it?” Erik groaned, rolling his eyes back towards Rowan as he grimaced. “Yeah, go on, just leave me to deal with this on my own.”

“Sorry,” Rowan told him, giving his fingers another squeeze before reluctantly letting him go to follow Hendrik.

He led away from the castle doors. “I imagine Serena has apprised you of what occurred in your absence?” Hendrik started as they picked their way across the lawn.

“How does it work, exactly - your remembering? Is it everyone, or just you guys?”

Hendrik clasped his hands behind his back. “It would appear to just be that of our comrades that have regained memory. It is our theory that only those present at Yggdrasil - those that were in control of their facilities, at any rate - have any awareness that any time travel took place.”

“But not Veronica,” Rowan said slowly.

Hendrik shook his head. “Indeed, Veronica has been most perplexed as to why everyone keeps embracing her without warning.”

Rowan felt a melancholy smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Her last memories were in her wand when we found her in the Grove. I guess...I guess it makes sense, then, that she wouldn’t remember anything that happened after.”

“That would be a sound explanation,” Hendrik agreed, pausing as they came to the edge of the hill.

“What about Jasper?” Rowan asked suddenly, looking up at the knight by his side. “Does he…know?”

Hendrik hesitated only a moment before answering. “I confess we did not speak at length, but from our short exchange, I do not believe Jasper has recovered any memories of the time that came before.”

Rowan exhaled. “Well, that’s...probably better. But I wonder why?”

“I could not say for certain, though it is likely due to your influence. I have been meaning to thank you, in fact.”

“Thank me?” Rowan echoed. He fought the urge to shift on his feet in the grass.

“For saving him,” Hendrik said, his words following the cadence of those carefully chosen and rehearsed. “You told me some time ago that you did it for my benefit, and I did not understand, then.” Hendrik put a warm, heavy hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “But now - now, I know you saved more than just his life, you saved _him._ He’s different, more like that of the boy I once knew. You brought back my oldest companion, and though we may never be as we once were - indeed, after spending so much time among you and your friends, perhaps he and I were never proper friends, in any true sense. I always regretted that he died the way he did, and with so much misconstrued between us. Now not only is he alive, but he’s happier here, in a way I never saw him in Heliodor. You gave him a new chance at life, and I will forever be grateful.”

Rowan ducked his head and tugged at the hem of his tunic. After a moment of silence - more heavy on Rowan’s part than Hendrik’s, he imagined - Rowan smiled at the ground and said, “I missed you, you know.”

He felt Hendrik pat his back, as affectionate as a hug from anyone else. “Your absence was felt as well, even if I did not entirely understand what I had lost.”

Rowan looked up as a couple by the stables caught his eye. He nudged Hendrik lightly with his elbow. “Oh! I’ve been waiting to tell you. I think Jasper has... _prospects.”_

“Prospects?” Hendrik repeated, his brow furrowing. “What-”

“Look,” Rowan told him, tipping his chin towards the stables below. Jasper gleamed in the sunlight bouncing off his armor as he leaned against the fence. On the other side stood the auburn-haired groom, his head bent close. Even at a distance, Rowan could see that he seemed far more fascinated by whatever the knight was saying to him than he did with the horse currently sniffing the bucket in his hand. “His name is Samuel,” Rowan told Hendrik, his voice dropping low and conspiratorial, “and I’ve noticed that Jasper seems to wander by the barn an awful lot.”

“Gossip does not befit one of your station,” Hendrik informed him primly. Rowan only grinned at him until he saw the corner of Hendrik’s mouth twitch. “Although I must confess, it is most intriguing to see Jasper taken with a stable hand. He would have brushed past him with his nose in the air, before.”

“Sometimes people can change,” Rowan mused, “if you give them the chance.”

 

 

His grandfather had not been present in his chambers when Rowan went looking. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved to have dodged Rab’s unique blend of scolding and mothering, or to merely resign himself to the knowledge that he’d only pushed it off until later.

He was bone tired, both from traveling and the emotional toll of the day. He loved his friends and was thrilled to see them, but with everything out in the open...he couldn’t begin to figure out what he was meant to do next. He’d never expected them to _know,_ and when all was said and done, their gratitude made him feel a bit itchy, like he didn’t quite deserve it.

Rowan didn’t feel like the shining hero he saw in their eyes. He felt more like the boulder holding up a waterfall, only to break loose and tumble down when the pressure gave way.

Retreating to his tower for a bit was tempting, but he didn’t want to tuck himself away without Erik. He’d have to go track him down somehow, without catching anyone else’s eye. They could hide out, just for a little while.

He turned the corner, deep into his plotting, only to feel a hand thread through his elbow and promptly yank him into an alcove.

“Found you,” Erik whispered. Rowan grinned, relief washing over him in waves.

“Good thing, too. I was hoping to take you up on your idea from earlier.”

Erik’s fingers slid into his hair and Rowan closed his eyes, leaning further back into his touch. Erik’s mouth ghosted over his jaw and Rowan shivered. “Let’s go then, Your Highness,” he murmured, the words caressing Rowan’s skin.

“You’re never going to stop with that one, are you?”

Rowan caught the flash of Erik’s smile in the shadows. “No,” he agreed, before closing the space between them and crushing his mouth to Rowan’s.

Rowan sank into him, all but falling in his eagerness. Erik’s kiss was a balm to his nerves even while his stomach flipped and his heart raced. He opened his mouth under Erik’s as he stepped closer. Erik’s back hit the wall and Rowan swallowed his gasp. His hands came up to grip Rowan’s tunic, to slide down his back and tug him closer, before journeying lower still.

Rowan barely heard the approaching footsteps in the hall through the wicked pound of his pulse in his ears.

Erik groaned and tipped his head back, scowling at the ceiling. Rowan’s swollen lips twitched into a smile. He pressed a kiss to Erik’s chin before drawing back, wrapping his fingers around his.

“You’re lucky,” Erik grumbled.

“How, in this particular instance, am I the lucky one?” Rowan countered, fighting a laugh. “I’d say we’re both unlucky.”

“I meant you’re lucky I’m _patient,”_ Erik retorted.

“That’s not a word I’d use to describe you, actually.”

“I can be,” Erik told him, his voice low. It sounded like the best kind of threat somehow, and Rowan cursed whoever was walking their way as the urge to pull Erik back in close and finish what they’d nearly started became instantly more pressing. He gave Erik one last, bruising kiss before tugging him out of the alcove just in time for Rab and Jade to turn the corner.

“Well, there ya are laddie!” Rab looked startled for a moment, then smiled wide. “Yer back! And none too soon, this lass was growing cross with you.”

“They disappeared in the middle of the night without word to anyone, except Mia and Jasper,” Jade argued, shooting Rowan a look that suggested he’d hear more about it later. As her eyes raked over the pair of them, her mouth twitched into a smirk - one that told Rowan that while Rab might not be aware of what he’d nearly happened upon, Jade certainly had an idea. Rowan ran a hand over his hair, trying to tame it into something resembling decency.

“Come on, lads. Supper’s soon to be on the table and we can all catch up on what’s been going on around here, aye?”

Rowan offered Erik an apologetic smile, and Erik only squeezed his hand, a silent acceptance, before releasing him. Jade slung an arm over both of their shoulders and redirected them towards the dining hall in Rab’s wake. “So,” she began, “where exactly did you two run off to, anyway?”

 

 

Dundrasil’s banquet table erred on the side of unconventional, Rowan knew. As soon as the castle was livable - perhaps before, even - Rab had insisted on first acquiring a dining table, a matter of utmost importance. With only a lone craftsman returned to the village and what few supplies one could find in what was still largely a disaster zone, their end product was a hodgepodge of mismatched woods and materials, one most royals would never allow across the threshold. Rab had claimed it didn’t matter much if it was ugly, so long as it served as a gathering place. Rowan had never given the table a great deal of thought, but with his friends wrapped around the circular surface, all chatting happily in between bites of their dinner, Rowan decided he found it rather beautiful, instead.

As the doors to the dining hall burst open in a whirlwind of color, every head turned towards the commotion.

“Darlings!” Sylvando danced through the doorway with a broad smile. “I’ve missed you so!”

Jade - the closest to the door - rose from her seat to greet him with a warm hug. Serena clapped her hands together over her plate. “Sylvando! Oh, what a wonderful surprise, we weren’t expecting you so soon!”

“Well I simply _had_ to be here, of course!” he released Jade and swept through the room. He paused to press a smacking kiss to Rowan’s cheek, then Erik’s, before moving around the table. Erik reached up and swiped his palm down the side of his face.

When Sylvando made it to Veronica’s side, his eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, Ronnie,” he murmured, before bending at the waist and wrapping her up in his arms. “It’s so good to see you, honey!”

Veronica blinked and frowned. “Don’t you start, too.”

Rowan dropped his gaze down to his plate and grimaced. He’d have to tell her, he realized. Someone had to - she was far too clever to stay in the dark for long. He glanced at her across the table in time to catch a smile, and felt his own slowly bloom to match.

A matter for tomorrow, he decided. The unpleasant truth would keep another night.

Sylvando clasped Hendrik’s arm in a firm shake before claiming an empty chair with a languid stretch.

“Now that everyone’s accounted for, let’s have a toast,” Rab said, raising his glass. “To my grandson, for giving me back my auld kingdom, and for bringing us all back together. Ye’ll never know how grateful I truly am, laddie, for everything.” His eyes looked misty.

Rowan felt his face heat up and ducked his head.

Hendrik lifted a glass, his expression solemn. “To the Prince.”

“To the Luminary,” Jade added with a broad smile.

Beside him, Erik leaned in and touched his glass to his. “To _Rowan,”_ he murmured, low enough for his ears alone. He lifted his eyes to meet Erik’s gaze, and his mouth tugged up into a smile.

“It was, um. Nothing? Well, that’s not-” Rowan started, pressing his lips together.

Rab let out a hearty laugh. “Look at him! Yer too modest, laddie.”

Erik bumped Rowan’s knee with his own, clearly fighting a snicker.

Around them, their friends and family fell back into animated conversation. Mia sat up on her knees in her chair and leaned in with her elbows braced on the edge of the table, regaling Veronica with a tale from her and Erik’s time on the road. Sylvando lifted a fork high in the air, entertaining Hendrik, Rab, and Jade with a story as he waved his utensil to drive his point home. Serena watched, a demure hand raised to cover her smile.

He’d told her the unequivocal truth before, Rowan realized. He hadn’t believed it a lie, no - but now, surrounded by those he loved with a smile across each face, Rowan felt a sort of peace settle inside his chest, as warm and bright as the sun that lit their days. He’d do it all again; every hour, every minute, just to make it back here, to this moment.

Across the table, Veronica threw back her head and laughed. Further down, Hendrik was chuckling at Sylvando’s antics, and Rab and Jade’s voices mixed as they spoke at once, both trying to share the same memory. It was a song he knew better than any other.

Next to him, Erik spoke up. “What are you thinking about?”

His voice, low and soft, was Rowan’s favorite melody.

“Nothing really,” he told him honestly, “I’m just...glad we’re here.” Under the table, he placed his hand on Erik’s knee and squeezed.

Erik grinned at him before shoving a forkful of roast into his mouth. With his free hand, Rowan lifted his glass to his lips. With his other, he slid his fingers farther up Erik’s leg, and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he took a sip.

He had the pleasure of watching color bloom as a blush spread from Erik’s neck to his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Wordlessly, Erik set down his fork and shot him a pointed look.

Rowan’s lips twitched up into a slight smirk. He let his hand explore higher still.

Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned, his voice a ragged whisper.

Rowan’s heart started pounding. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, fighting the spread of his grin. “Oh, I can-”

“Erik, are you quite alright?” Serena broke in, leaning towards them. Both Erik and Rowan jumped, and Erik’s knee hit the underside of the table with a thud. “You look flushed.”

“I’m good,” he grunted, avoiding Rowan’s eye as his face grew even redder. Rowan rubbed his hand soothingly over the leg that was sure to be throbbing from the impact.

“Maybe you should go get some air,” Veronica offered, completely straight-faced. “It’s a bit warm in here. Rowan, go with him, in case he faints or something.”

Neither of them needed to be told twice. As he fled the room on Erik's heels, he wondered fleetingly what he’d ever done without her.

 

 

Rowan let out a breathless laugh as his back hit the door to his bedroom, snapping it closed behind them. Erik’s hand was twisted in the front of his tunic, deft fingers undoing buttons until it fell open beneath his hands. “You’re sure you don’t want to-” he gasped as Erik’s mouth found his collarbone, “-go back down and hang out with the others?”

Erik hummed against his skin and let him feel the slightest hint of teeth. “I think we’ve done our part for today. They’ve had enough of you.”

Rowan fought a smile as he trailed his hands up Erik’s back. “What if your sister comes looking for us?”

Erik lifted a hand. Next to his ear, Rowan heard the very telling sound of the bolt sliding into place over the door, locking it. “Shut up, would you?” he suggested, his tone mild.

“Or what about Rab? King of Dundrasil, and all-”

“I will tell that old man _exactly_ where he can go if he tries to come in here tonight.”

Rowan laughed, the sound giving way to a shaky exhale as Erik moved his attentions up Rowan’s neck to his ear. “Where is that patience you were telling me about earlier?” he breathed, his fingers fisting in the back of Erik’s tunic as he tugged at it, seeking skin.

“Gone,” Erik growled against his ear.

Something hot and tight unfurled in his stomach. He swore his knees nearly buckled.

He pushed Erik back only long enough to yank his tunic up over his head, freeing pale skin for his palms to roam over. Rowan tugged him back in close, leaning down to kiss him as Erik’s fingers sank into his hair.

Moonlight spilled in from the open window across the gleaming stones. One by one garments hit the floor as they divested each other of what stood between greedy hands and the skin they sought. Rowan pressed his lips to Erik’s jaw, his neck, the curve of his collar. He counted constellations in the freckles that dotted Erik’s shoulder and offered a kiss for every spot of starlight. Erik’s shaking hands skimmed down his ribs, over his hips, and held on. He pulled him in closer until they were flush against each other.

“I love you,” Rowan whispered it against his skin. He traced the words over Erik’s spine, breathed it against his lips. He got his answer in the way Erik’s fingers tightened on him, in the way his thumb caressed the new scar below his ribs. He could hear it in the way Erik’s exhales stuttered against his throat. He could feel it, in the ceaseless beat of his heart under his hand.

He knew it, without a single doubt.

 

 

Lost in the quiet hours of the night, Rowan couldn’t sleep.

Despite overwhelming exhaustion and a radiating soreness in just about every muscle, he couldn’t get comfortable enough to drift off, even with Erik tucked up against his side. Slowly, Rowan slipped free. Cool air wafted over his skin as he put his feet on the ground and crossed the stones to the open window. He settled down on the wide bench at the sill and looked up at the sky.

The Lantern, bright and red, shined high above, bathing the dark clouds around it in a faint crimson glow. It felt like so long ago he’d watched it fall. Another lifetime, he thought.

Maybe, in a way, it was.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of rustling to see Erik freeing himself from the bed, dragging the quilt behind him. Wordlessly, he climbed up onto the window sill and tossed one corner of the blanket over Rowan’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” Rowan whispered, even though there was no one left for his words to disturb. “I tried to be quiet.”

“You were,” Erik assured him, “but I noticed you were gone.” He shifted around to get more comfortable, their shoulders brushing under the blanket. Erik was still warm. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking about the day you left,” Rowan told him. When Erik’s mouth turned down in a frown, he continued quickly. “Not- that came out wrong. When you left, I just...didn’t know what to do next. That’s sort of how I’m feeling now, I suppose.”

Erik moved closer, and Rowan leaned in to share his heat. “What do you want to do?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Rowan mused. “Ever since I found out I was the Luminary, I’ve always thought I’d never get to choose my life, that it would never belong to me, but now…” Rowan tilted his head to one side, his eyebrows furrowing. “Now, at least for a little while, I don’t have something that I _have_ to do next.”

Erik nodded slightly, still blinking sleep from his eyes in a way that made Rowan’s heart swell. “You would be the person to get nervous when you didn’t have a world to save.”

“Well, what about you?” Rowan asked, nudging him. “What do _you_ want to do?”

Erik lifted an eyebrow. “Me?”

Rowan turned to face him fully, studying Erik’s expressions. “I know this isn’t what we planned before. And even a week ago, when we left for Angri-La, we didn’t really _plan_ anything. I’m going to be the King of Dundrasil one day. Is that...I mean, are you…”

Erik watched him struggle with words, his face unreadable. After a second, he merely shrugged. “I could do worse.”

Rowan snorted. “Would you - I’m trying to be serious.”

“I know,” Erik said. “I don’t care. I already told you. Wherever we are, I’m good, okay? You want to run off and sail to one of those islands in the middle of the sea, sounds great. You want to stay here and rule a kingdom and live in a castle?” He offered a grin. “Well, I could get used to that, too.”

“Okay,” Rowan murmured, watching as Erik turned something over between his fingers. He’d noticed him playing with it more than once before, and finally, his curiosity got the better of him. “What’s that?”

Erik paused, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been fidgeting with it in the first place. His cheeks flushed, though Rowan could only just see the color rise in the dark. “It’s just -” with a sigh, he handed it over.

Rowan took the small, wooden token in his palm. The surface on both sides was smooth and worn, as though Erik ran his thumb over it often. Carved into the middle was a nearly perfect rendition of his birthmark. “Oh, that’s…” he ran a finger over it gently, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s my mark.”

Erik shifted next to him, bumping his knee into Rowan’s thigh. “Um, yeah. Mia made it and gave it to me while we were traveling. It’s, uh. Kind of what made me want to come back, actually.” Rowan blinked at him, and Erik made a face. “It just reminded me of who I put my faith in, so long ago.”

His throat felt thick as he handed the Luminary coin back. “Morcant asked me if I’d give up being the Luminary to get your memories back, and I said no,” he blurted out.

Erik considered his words for a moment, his face inscrutable. “But I-”

“It was a test, I think. To see what I’d say. I mean, obviously, because he told me how to give your memories back anyway, but-”

Something like pride flashed over Erik’s face. “I’m glad you said no,” he said, turning his token over in his hand.

“Yeah?” Rowan murmured.

Erik nodded before shoving it back into a pocket, out of sight. “I’m not worth that.”

“You _are,”_ Rowan protested instantly, eyes narrowing. “That’s not why I said no. In fact, I told him that’s why I hated it sometimes, because I couldn’t give up everything-”

“Rowan,” Erik interrupted, his brows drawn low. “That’s not what I meant, or -” he made a frustrated sound. “I know you don’t always like being the Luminary, but I’m glad you didn’t give it up for me, because that’s just who you are. You don’t have to give up everything for me, but I know you would. You’d give up everything for anyone - in fact, you’ve _done_ it.”

He must have looked perplexed, for Erik just smiled at him and continued. “You make everything better, you always do. You saved Mia, you gave Serena back her sister, you helped give Rab back Dundrasil. You even gave Jasper back to Hendrik, for Yggdrasil’s sake. You gave Veronica back the rest of her life. I’ve watched you all day - every time someone thanks you, you have no idea what to do with it, because you never thought anyone _would._ You didn’t do it for thanks, you just wanted to help. You _are_ the Luminary, magical glowing birthmark or not, because that’s just what you do.”

Rowan frowned up at the sky for a moment before he spoke again, choosing his words carefully. “You know, I think I would choose it anyway,” he said softly. “I’ve always thought I’d never get to choose my life, but as crazy as it is, I’d choose it.”

Erik was shaking his head. When Rowan glanced at him, his smile was one of exasperated affection. “Of course you would. I _know._ That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Rowan blinked. “What do you mean, you know? I just figured it out.”

Erik laughed. “Dumbass,” he said, fondly. “If someone gave you the choice to be a stone wall between evil and the rest of the world, or to be someone already safe behind the wall, you’d choose to be the wall, every time.”

Rowan chewed on his lower lip. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t love it,” Erik told him, “because it tends to end with you stuck with an arrow. But I love _you,_ so I’ll be a part of the wall, too.”

Rowan grinned into the dark. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut it,” Erik grumbled, shifting closer until he could tuck his head into Rowan’s shoulder.

Rowan slid an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss into his hair before turning his attention back to the sky. “You know, the whole time you were gone, I tried to find all the constellations you showed me, every night. I’m not very good at it, though. You said the sky is the same wherever you go, but-”

Erik nodded against his collarbone. “It is if you know what to look for.”

“Show me again, then,” Rowan murmured, his mouth curving into a smile.

Erik pointed upward, dragging his finger in an invisible line away from the crescent moon to trace the stars. “Well, that one is Erdwin’s Lantern - or should it be Rowan’s Lantern, now?”

Rowan sighed. “Now you’re just being a pain.”

Erik grinned. “Over there, that one’s the Rabid Sabrecat.”

“Oh, just stop,” Rowan laughed. “I’m never going to remember them all if you make half of them up.”

“You’ll learn,” Erik said. The warmth of his breath on Rowan’s neck made him shiver. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, you've all got a piece of my heart. Let me know what you think! Also, in the next few weeks I plan to start posting a new fic, a Fake Dating Modern AU with Erik & Rowan. If that sounds like something you'd like, keep an eye out! Bye for now! <3


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